Destruction Of Grief
by Suck My Venom
Summary: Post-Grave. Only few survivors are left now and they are trying to get things back to normal, as best they can. As they move closer and closer to succesion, something comes along to change things, in the form of an epiphany. Can they go back to when things went wrong, to change it for the better?
1. Prologue

**Authors Note; **Hey guys, welcome to my new story. For personal gratification, this is posted on three separate sites, so you can also find it on Elysian Fields and The Bloodshedverse. I'm currently in the middle of the 6th chapter, so hopefully there won't be the same issues as with my other WIP stories. Cross your fingers for me.

Feedback of any kind, good or bad, are much appreciated. Especially since I'd very much like to know how capable I am with grasping the characters personalities. Especially Anya, as she can be quite tricky to write. I feel I've got Spike down pretty well, but tell me differently if you feel up to it :D

Now, on with it.

**Summary; **Post-Grave, only days later. Grief is crashing down on Sunnydale, through two distinct people. The events of canon were changed, by one single act and now no one will ever be the same again. But, will a visit from an old boss change things for the better or for the worse?

* * *

**- Prologue -**

She looked solemnly out over what used to be the Magic Box. Her only escape in her miserable life. The one place where no one judged. Not on her past, present or future. Here, she could truly be herself, someone who was neither human nor Demon. Someone who just was.

It was her sanctuary. _Was_ being the operative word.

At the moment, there were many things she tried desperately to ignore. The wet tears, running unhindered down her white face. The electrically charged light-bulb, sending sparks flying all over the room. The fact that, despite predictions, the world had yet to end.

The hardest to ignore, was the body of her friend.

Though the Sunnydale PD wasn't the smartest tack in the box, it would only be a matter of time before they came knocking. She wasn't ready. Ready to deal, ready to lie, ready for them to zip up the black bag and take Giles away.

She sighed deeply, feeling older than she actually was, which was saying a lot. She didn't want to be forced to deal with this. Hadn't she had enough grief, to last her a lifetime?

The wedding that wasn't, the unintended betrayal of sleeping with the enemy, losing people she thought were her friends, when they picked a side that wasn't hers. And now this. It had yet to hit her, that Giles was truly gone.

Then something else hit her.

She spent the next half hour, boarding up the windows and removing all the more dangerous magical paraphernalia. Just for when the police decided to bust down the door. She couldn't find it in her heart, though, to move the body. To have to touch the rapidly cooling skin, see into the empty eyes, that were once filled with such depth and compassion.

All gone.

Once she was finished, she threw one more beaten look on the destructed shop and then turned to leave, locking the deadbolt behind her. She had a mystery to unravel and she knew just where to look for the first piece of the puzzle.

She held her coat tighter around her, as she followed, unknowingly, in the Slayer's earlier footsteps.

Not knowing just what terrible things she would find.

* * *

Somewhere else, in another part of the world, a creature cried out in pure agony, as his soul was returned to him.

And the world would never be the same again.

* * *

In the dank corner, of a greasy motel, sat a broken spirit.

She had no more tears left in her, only the debilitating numbness of her own emotions. The stream of voices in her head couldn't be silenced, and in her current solitude and slight insanity, she wondered if this was how Angel felt, every second of every day.

Her soul was weeping with the onslaught of guilt.

She wondered when everything had gone so wrong. When power had become more important to her, than those that loved and trusted her the most. When losing Tara hadn't even been incentive enough, to stop her from delving into darkness.

And death had only made it worse.

Her hands shook along to the beat of her mind. 'Away', she thought, 'I made them all go away'.

Her face was both deathly white and fire-red, while her hair hung limply, clinging to her sweat soaked features. Her toes quivered in her shoes, her lips hung open in a silent scream and her eyes... her eyes betrayed her.

In her mind, she saw her worst fears come to life.

Helpless, as always, to stop it.

Without even realizing it, her hands slowly clenched into tight fists, as her surroundings passed her by. She did not hear the woman in the next room, reaching a climax that she herself would never again find. Nor did the faraway sirens, register in her battered mind. Locked so tightly within her own thoughts, she even failed to notice, when she was no longer alone.

It wouldn't have mattered, though, as she was soon left to her own devices, yet again.

Deservedly so, she probably felt.

The small lamp that stood on the bedside table, flickered every two seconds, casting eerie shadows on the red heads face. The bathroom faucet was leaking, and the suddenly loud dripping, in the otherwise silent room, cast a blanket of despair over the girl. The once innocent spirit, who had gotten so lost.

But who was left now, to help her find her way back home?

If she had her way, she'd stay here, in the blistering darkness, until it was time for her to leave this plane. However, the thought of her coming demise, which should have set her bruised mind at ease, did nothing but tear open the still fresh wounds.

With the realization of what she had done, came the epiphany of what that meant for her.

She'd never see Tara again.

She wouldn't deserve the peace, tranquility and love of a place like where she had pulled Buffy from. She would go to the same place, as all of those creatures she had helped kill over the last six years. And she would merit it, her actions would. Oh, she had no doubt that Warren and the creepy sorcerer would not make it so, but she had done more than that.

She had done something much worse.

And it wasn't something you came back from.

So, she sat here, curled into a ball, pressed up against the wall, holding herself together as best she could, as the events of the last two days played like a movie in her mind. She wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, rest in a dreamless state, but didn't dare close her eyes. This was what she had done and she did not deserve rest, did not deserve peace from her crimes.

She deserved only exactly what she would get, once she left this world.

To burn in Hell.

* * *

The day had been a long one, and despite the emotional turmoil of what she had discovered, she soon found herself back at the Magic Box. The body was still there, along with the destruction of property. She knew she should probably get started on the clean up, but her strength just wasn't there. She felt like simply letting go, be swept up in the sadness and grief, and let the tide of emotions take her away.

She was surprised that anger wasn't predominant in her tainted soul, but she just couldn't find it in herself, to hate Willow. There was nothing she wanted more, and god knew she deserved it, but when Anya had teleported into the tiny motel room, she had deflated within seconds.

The despair surrounding the redhead, told the Vengeance Demon that she was already punishing herself enough for the both of them.

So she had quickly left again, without the Witch being any the wiser to her presence. Not knowing where to turn, since there was no one left, she had returned to the shop, despite the knowledge that her friend and former boss was still lying near the entrance, dead eyes looking up at nothing.

She walked past him, no longer ignoring the sight, backed up against the counter and slid slowly down, until she hit the ground. She hardly felt the debris she sat on, or the hand that was sliced open by a nail, as she clapped her arms down by her sides. The smell of blood seemed even more pungent, in the light of the day she'd had.

A sound reached her from far away and she wondered briefly, if she had gone insane. Or maybe she was lying in her bed and this was all a detailed nightmare. Maybe she would wake up tomorrow, still lonely in her small apartment and ostracized from her supposed friends. But at least she wouldn't be alone.

The distant footsteps now came closer and she managed to pull herself out of her own mind, in time to see who had decided to disturb her silent grief. While on the inside she felt shock at her sudden company, she showed no sign of surprise on her frowning features. She didn't even move more than her head, as she looked at the being standing before her.

"Anyanka, I am so very sorry for your loss." D'Hoffryn said, as he stared down at the lifeless body by the door.

"What do you want?" Her voice was hoarse from disuse, as she put as much fire as possible in her words.

The Head of Arashmahar turned away from the dead Watcher and looked at his child. She had been his favorite for so long, but when the Powers had approached him with a vision of the future, he knew he had to let her go. Allow her to lose her powers and let them stay gone. Such was his reason for not helping her, when she had come to him so many years ago.

Now, however, that had all changed.

The future he had been shown, had changed.

Now, no longer a puppet on the Powers' string, he decided to do something about it himself. For the sake of his sweet Anyanka and the people she cared for. Even if he would never quite understand the depth of her emotions for these so-called Champions.

'Humans', he thought with a mental sneer, 'they're nothing but trouble'.

"I can feel your pain, Anyanka. It screams to me, reaching across dimensions and you know I do not enjoy the misery of my girls. You have to let me help you, my dear." He practically pleaded, so unlike his usual self.

It caused a slight pause in the ancient Demon, as she watched him carefully, for any signs of deceit.

She couldn't seem to find any.

Slowly she rose from the floor and went to stand in front of him. She had known D'Hoffryn for more than ten centuries now, and felt that maybe she owed it to him, to hear what he had to say. After all, hadn't he given her a second chance and elevated her yet again, when Xander had walked out on her?

"How?" She said, keeping it simple, so as not to strain her tired throat.

The crying had ripped apart her insides, in spectacular ways.

D'Hoffryn sighed. "I am offering you something I never thought I'd give away. None of my other girls have ever been given this, but then you've always been special to me." He smiled shortly, before continuing. "I can not bring back the ones you've lost, but I hope to make the pain a bit easier to live with. If you want it, that is?"

Anyanka had never struck him as a martyr, but then she had changed a lot in the years she had lived as a human. How was he to know if she wished to punish herself, as the witch who had caused this was doing at this moment.

"What are you playing at, Hoffy?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I assure you, Anyanka, this is not a game. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I will only offer you this once. Take it or leave." He said, and although his words were harsh, his tone wasn't.

She had now been convinced of his honesty, but did that mean that she should take him up on his offer? If Xander were here, she was sure he'd call it 'making a deal with the devil'.

But he wasn't here, was he.

"Okay, I'm listening. What did you have in mind?"

"It's simple, really. I am letting you off the hook, as the humans say. You are a free Demon."

"Oh, so you just want... wait, what did you say? Did you say... Demon? So, you're not taking away my powers?" She was dumbfounded, unknowingly clutching the amulet around her throat.

"Yes, Anyanka. Here is what I am offering. You will stay a Demon, just not one of mine. Not officially, at least. You'll still be able to grant wishes, teleport and have the strength you've become accustomed to, you simply won't answer to me, or anyone else anymore. How does that sound?"

Unbelievable, is how it sounded.

Freedom. She could do what she wanted, go where she wanted, make her own decisions. She couldn't even do that in the years she'd been human, as she had been so set on pleasing Xander. But this was the first thing that wasn't about him. Even the shop had been about earning a living so she could contribute to her boyfriend's paycheck. But this...

This was all about her.

There was only one problem.

"What's the catch?" She said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at her former and current Boss.

D'Hoffryn laughed, having expected this response. It was not often for him to give, without receiving anything in return. However, this time was different. "As difficult as it may be for you to believe, there is no catch, my dear. There is simply a desire to make you happy. Even if it had not been for this recent tragedy, I already sensed what being back in my fold, was doing to you, emotionally. You are no longer cut out for the life of Vengeance, Anyanka."

And she knew he was right. These days she practically had to talk herself into granting wishes. The only one she _had_ been passionate about, was the one involving her ex-fiance and there was an obvious reason for that. He had hurt her. But granting the wishes of others, of strangers who probably had it coming anyway... as D'Hoffryn had put it, that wasn't her anymore.

"So, this is really genuine, then?" There was still a small sliver of doubt left, most likely the result of her fear. She wasn't used to getting something she never knew she always wanted. It wouldn't take much, to push her that last mile and make her accept.

"Yes, I assure you it is. I have already prepared the ritual that will be needed for the transformation."

"Transformation?"

"I will need to transfer ownership of your powers, from myself to your own being. Thus ensuring that you will be your own Boss, you could say. Once done, I would no longer have any say in what you do or how you choose to grant future wishes. Of course, I would also be unable to help, should you find yourself in a troubling situation."

"What about if a wish needs to be revoked?" She wondered, as at times like this, you'd either crush the Demon's amulet or summon D'Hoffryn.

He smiled, pleased that she was taking this seriously and asking all the appropriate questions. "You'll simply need to get the wisher to take back his or her words. A simple 'Undo' will do the trick. So, what do you say?"

She leaned back against the counter, thinking. Mulling over the last ten minutes of their conversation. It sounded too good to be true, and yet she knew he was being sincere in his offer. It was something she'd never dared dream of before. And certainly not before Giles made her human, as she was quite happy with her existence back then.

But now...

She thought of Xander and how he would have felt about this. And then she realized that no matter how free she became, he'd probably always see her as a Demon, regardless. So instead, she thought of someone who could understand her situation the best. Spike.

She imagined telling him that he was free of the restrictions put upon him. Not the removal of the chip, but freedom from his Demon. Free to love Buffy, without worrying about the blood lust. Free to enter society, while keeping his strength. Simply free.

Who wouldn't want that?

Taking a cue from her fellow 'former' Demon, she thought of the pros and cons of the offer. The only con she could think of, was the loss of immortality. But then, hadn't she come to terms with that, when she was still human? Other than that, there was losing contact with Arashmahar, but the only one she still talked to was Hallie and that really couldn't be considered a real friendship.

Not like what she had witnessed lately, between the Scoobies.

That's what she wanted.

With these thoughts and ideas, tumbling around in her mind and giving her a pounding headache, she came to a final decision. She raised her tired eyes to her former Boss and gave a simple nod.

As the two of them vanished into thin air, to perform the ritual in a sacred place, one last thought rang through Anya's mind.

If she was free to grant any wishes, a world of possibilities had just opened up for her.

She couldn't wait to be free.

* * *

For the second time, in however long she had been confined in this small room, she was joined by the presence of another. This time, though, it would not be a silent, short visit, followed by a quick and invisible departure. This time, she would not be left to wallow in her misery. It was time to crawl out of her hole.

The slap came as a surprise, to the barely catatonic redhead. She blinked her eyes in shock, both at the slap itself and at being out of her own mind, for the first time in what felt like forever. Raising her head upwards, to identify the culprit, she was equally shocked by what she saw, standing above her, hands on her hips.

"Anya?" She whispered, her throat sore from screams of terror, as nightmares visited her in her slumber.

"About time!" She almost shouted, sighing at the young Witch, trembling on the floor. "I've only been calling your name for like an hour," she exaggerated, "but you just sat there. And phew," she held her fingers to her nose, using her other hand for emphasis, "do you need a shower, like, immediately. Seriously, do you not smell yourself. I've turned men into better smelling rodents in my day."

Her rant helped, if even just a bit, the way she had hoped it would. A small fraction of the wrenching grief left the woman's face, as anger took hold of her eyes. Slowly, as her joints were unused to movement, Willow rose to face the too cheery Vengeance Demon.

"What are you doing here, Anya?" The Witch tried desperately for an angered tone, but all she could muster was saddened defeat. She wanted to be left alone to her misery and the blonde Demoness saw through her straight away.

"As that weird, constipated man said, in the movie Xander made me watch, I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse."

Willow tried not to flinch at the mention of her best friend, bringing reminders of what she'd so carelessly done. From the pain mirrored in her companions eyes, she knew that her shameful secret was out. Which caused confusion to overtake dominance on her face, replacing anger and grief.

"Why do you wanna help me? After what I..." she couldn't finish the sentence.

Anya sighed, realizing she would have to do this the hard way. "Because, despite our differences, and your recent... slip, I know that you're a good person and..." she whispered the last part so low, that Willow almost didn't hear it, "I don't have anyone else to go to."

She was right, Willow had seen to that herself, the redhead thought with a mental sneer at herself. Just when she thought she could feel no more guilt, she realized that it wasn't just the ones physically hurt she should worry about. Like herself, Anya was one of the few still around, dealing with the aftermath of her actions.

She sat down hard on the bed behind her, huffing out a deep breath as Anya began pacing the small room. She would listen to the blonde, if only for the memory of her best friend, who had for some reason loved the blunt Demon, more than even she understood.

But then her own relationship had been far from conventional. Both of them.

"Alright, Anya," she said, giving the other girl a chance, "I'm listening."

As the Demoness went into detail of her conversation with her former Boss and the ritual that had followed, something inside Willow began to slowly grow. A sliver of something she had once had an abundance of, but had left her in the last months. Something she knew she would need, in the days coming ahead.

Hope.

* * *

**Authors Note; **Spike will be joining us in the next chapter and then things will start to get a move on. First off, something you should know. The first 5 chapters are based on the 5 stages of grief, just in case you don't notice the distinct chapter titles :D

Remember to review, I get so depressed I lose my inspiration, if I only get few reviews. Not to threat, or anything, just stating fact... :)


	2. Denial

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. The characters belong to Joss Whedon and I profit none from the story. Only the plot is mine, thank you.

In this chapter, you get to meet one part of the Spuffy couple, but it's still a while to go, before the second part is introduced, so be patient :) This was a somewhat difficult chapter to write, but not anywhere near as wonderfully hard as the third one was. Just you wait and see :P

**Summary:** The survivors are still struggling to go on with their lives, but are brought out of their own grief, when they run into a familiar face one night. However, what happens when Spike finds out what Willow did?

* * *

- Denial -

Two days.

Two agonizing days now, since it happened. The sarcastic part of her had dubbed it the Witch trials. Only this time, it was a sister to the moon who had been the judge, jury and executioner.

The police still hadn't been called, the bodies hadn't been moved and grief still lay its blanket across town, dormant especially with two specific women. Broken spirits who didn't have the strength to let the lost go.

But they would soon have other things on their minds.

Anya went back to the tiny motel room, having decided to give Willow her space. But the redhead wasn't there. Despite knowing it would be fruitless, she still felt the need to ransack the room. Maybe the guilt stricken Witch had simply crawled into a dark hole, hiding within herself. But after a half hour of searching, it became clear to the Vengeance Demon.

Willow was nowhere to be found.

Groaning out her displeasure, that she now had to waste precious time looking for the elusive ginger, she left the room and went off to interrogate the desk clerk. The obviously tired man had not seen a thing and according to the books, Willow hadn't officially checked out, though Anya insisted that she was gone. When he finally began to ignore the annoyed and enraged Demoness, she huffed, tossed her hair and left.

Having no idea where to start her search, she wandered around town for hours, no particular destination in mind. She tried the most logical places first, such as the redhead's dorm room, the park she had often frequented and Tara's grave, which Anya had picked out two days ago. Then, when she still didn't find any depressed Witch, she widened her search, to more generic places.

It was just past 2 am, as she stood in front of the almost fully built, new Sunnydale High, that she wondered why she hadn't thought of this earlier. With all of those voices and past memories surely weighing down on her mind, it should be obvious that she would want to return to the place, where she had been the most happy. Carefree and innocent.

She sighed along with the revelation and then entered through the basement door. Prepared for what was likely to be a long trek, she settled into a steady pace and let her mind wander.

Although she had seen hope flare in the eyes of the redhead, it had been a long two days. Willow would continuously fall back into the same despair, over and over, leaving Anya to pull her back out into the real world, every single time. It was grating on the Demon's patience.

With her new powers in check, she had gone by the entrance to Restfield Cemetery and placed an ignorance spell on the large graveyard. Helping out the Witch meant no time to clean up the messes and she was not yet ready to deal with the authorities of this town. The spell would keep anyone passing by or through, from registering the sight in front of them. They would see nothing and be on their way.

Thankfully she had been able to do the spell, without having to actually enter that place of death.

More so now than ever before, she thought grimly.

The shop was under lock and key, cemetery taken care of and police still unawares. As summer had recently come around, she knew she had months before Social Services would come knocking, checking up on Dawn.

They had time.

But for what, she didn't know.

Yet.

As she passed yet another corner of the dark basement, which seemed to go on forever, she wondered where the Hellmouth was, in this new building. She knew that Xander and his team had helped begin the structure, but by then she had already parted from him and didn't know how much he had inquired to.

She knew it had been below the library the last time around, but was sure the layout would be different this time. However, being back to her Demonic self, made her realize that she would probably feel its power, should she come within reach of it.

She could already feel the energy, simmering below the surface of her skin.

As she zig zagged her way down the lonely corridors, she kept her eyes peeled and her senses on alert, for anything resembling the presence of a redheaded witch. Or any other being, for that matter.

Having never seen the real need for a wristwatch, and not having procured a cellular phone just yet, she had no idea of the time. Something told her, though, that she had wandered for more than an hour. It made her wonder just how big this place truly was.

Or had she been going in circles?

Just as she was about to give up, and wasn't that typically when something would always happen, she heard a whimper not far from where she was. Instantly recognizing the voice, and grief lacing through the tones, she made her way to the rustic boiler room.

Obviously a leftover that had not been replaced, since the old school still stood tall.

Willow was pressed in between the shut off boiler itself and the cement wall. Anya knew that her trembling was from more than just her state of mind, as the room was freezing and the Witch wore only thin pajama pants and a small top. Her sleepwear, that Anya had brought her.

She figured it might lessen the guilt load, if the redhead didn't wear the clothes she had killed in.

"Willow?" The blonde surprised herself, at the tenderness in her voice, when she addressed the girl.

And she looked so much like a girl at this moment, that it was hard to believe she was almost twenty-two.

The sniffles stopped momentarily and red eyes met blue. She knew it would only be a matter of time before she was found, but she just wanted to be alone, for as long as she could. Even though Anya had promised her space, she needed to be in control of her own comings and goings. She didn't like being dependent on someone else.

She never had, despite how much she might need it right now.

"It hurts, Anya, it hurts so much," she choked out, sobbing anew, "they're all screaming at me, screaming in my head and it hurts. I wanna make it go away, but I don't know how. Please, make it go away... please..."

"Shh," she softly whispered, sitting down on the cold ground and taking the girl into her arms, slowly rocking her back and forth. "It's gonna be okay, Willow. I'm gonna help you, help you get better. You'll see, it'll all be okay again."

"But how? How can anything ever be okay again? I killed them, Anya. I took them away, took their light, the way he took hers. Why? Why did I do that?"

Anya didn't answer, not having one at the moment. In all honesty, she was as much at a loss as the Witch. She didn't know why things had happened the way they did. Why Willow hadn't been able to stop after killing the warlock and Warren. Anya would never cry tears for those two.

One had helped push Willow towards the dark and the other had killed Tara, after all.

But why she hadn't stopped with those two, Anya couldn't say. Wasn't sure either of them would ever be able to. Grief could make a person do horrible things, she knew. And the Witch was unfortunately now proof of that.

So she didn't answer her. Just kept rubbing her arms and whispering empty assurances into her ear. Waiting for her to calm down, even just a bit, so she could get her into a warm bed. Sleep off the headache her tears were sure to bring her.

It was still dark out, when Willow finally calmed down. She hadn't fallen asleep, thankfully, as Anya wasn't sure she could carry the girl all the way home, but she had stopped wailing out her sorrow. It didn't seem to occur to the Demon at this moment, that with her freedom came the ability to teleport more than just herself.

She hefted the tiny, broken girl up and threw her arm over her own shoulder, limping out of the cold boiler room with the weight of her companion. She wasn't sure which way she had come from and knew better than to ask Willow how she had come in here, as the Witch probably wouldn't remember right now. So instead, she made a left turn and hoped for the best.

Though Willow's whimpers had quieted down, Anya could hear her heavy breathing, and knew that she could start back up again at any moment. Wanting to find shelter before that happened, she tried her best to hurry both of their steps. Resulting in her foot, banging into a box on the hard, cold floor.

"Dammit," she hissed, dropping Willow against the wall and grabbing her ankle in a wince.

Just because she was a Demon who couldn't easily be killed, didn't mean she didn't feel pain.

She took in deep breaths, as the ache slowly faded and she could stop hopping on one foot. Annoyed at what had transpired, she walked forward a few feet, slamming the heel of her hand into a steel door. The sound reverberated throughout the large and echoing cellar, but it didn't stop sensitive Demon ears from hearing it.

Willow saw how the blonde's face suddenly changed, becoming that of an otherworldly creature and held her breath. She had no idea what had spurred on this change in the other woman, but wasn't interested in getting on her bad side right now. When she still hadn't spoken after a few minutes had passed, the witch took a chance.

"Anya," she whispered, not wanting to fully disturb the Demoness, "what is it?"

"Shh," she answered, but much different from earlier, "we're not alone." She stated, not looking at the witch to see her reaction to her words.

"What?" She kept herself from bellowing the words, just in time, but it was still loud enough that Anya turned to her, murder in her eyes.

"Quiet! I said, someone's here. I don't know who... or what, but we are definitely not alone. Now stay still, I'm gonna check it out."

Despite the warning tone of her voice, Willow followed right behind Anya, as she approached the steel door she had punched a little while ago and began trying to open it. The Witch didn't lend a helping hand, knowing that she had tapped out her strength, with the nights crying jag. Instead, she waited somewhat patiently, as the Demon used her newfound strength, to rip the door open.

And all the air in the room, was ripped out, in two loud gasps.

"Spike?"

For the first time, since the 'event', Willow was pulled completely out of her grief and self-flagellation. As she stood there, mouth hanging slightly open, she couldn't help but stare. She thought she had seen all the faces of the Vampire, but this was definitely something new. It unnerved her.

Anya was flummoxed as well, which was decidedly rare for the blunt Demoness. She knew, simply by looking at him, what had happened, but couldn't fathom how. Or why. Her first thought was the only person in recent history, with success at an ensoulment spell, but a brief glance showed the surprise on Willow's face and she wasn't that good an actress.

The Vampire didn't seem to have noticed their presence, as he continued to mumble incoherently and twist his fingers in his hair. Hair that had a lot more roots than the two women were used to seeing. Even though he sat continuously in the same spot, he still moved his body constantly, obviously not able to keep completely calm.

The two women quickly found pity in their hearts for him. They both moved closer simultaneously, as if by some silent agreement, and crouched down in front of the delirious Vampire. Still not saying a single word, Willow reached out her hand towards Spike's shirt and pulled aside the fabric. Revealing a multitude of crisscross cuts across his unbeating heart.

"Oh, god..." the redhead exclaimed, in a near whisper.

For the first time in years, Anya was completely speechless.

"He did that to himself, didn't he." It wasn't a question and the witch's voice shook.

He wanted to cut it out, Anya thought with a pained grimace, but still she didn't speak. She could only stare, at the somewhat pathetic Vampire, as he wept silently to himself. His words were whispered so softly, that even her enhanced Demonic hearing couldn't catch it. Though she had an idea, imagining all of those victims that still haunted her at times.

Oh, they all thought she hadn't felt it. That unlike a Vampire, going from soulless to a sudden conscience hadn't been an issue for her. But what they didn't know was that just because she didn't react like Angel, didn't mean she wasn't haunted every second of every day.

Yeah, she knew exactly what Spike was going through.

Unaware of the thoughts inside the blonde, Willow tried to concentrate, not allow the judgmental voices to drag her back into her own mind. Spike needed her to be sane, so that at least one of them were. She let her hand slowly return to her side, as the open shirt fell back into place, covering up his chest. Instinctively she knew that asking him anything at the moment, would not result in something useful.

He was not in a competent mood, right now.

"What do we do?"

Anya was at a loss, at the moment, so she simply stared blankly at the redhead who was looking at her expectantly. She managed to just barely shrug her delicate shoulders, which Willow responded with a deep sigh. Both women turned their eyes back on the bunched up form of the Vampire they hardly recognized anymore. He was still mumbling too low for them to understand and rocking from side to side.

"Could you teleport him out? I think he'd be too heavy for us to carry," she whispered, too tired to make commands and so it came out as a simple question instead.

Once the words had been spoken, Anya felt like slapping herself. She had completely forgotten about this nifty little change to her new, better powers, until it had been mentioned. Although in some ways, that probably wasn't a negative thing, as the two never would've stumbled over the depressed Vampire, had she teleported Willow out the moment she found her.

Anya knelt beside the shivering Vampire and lay one hand on his shoulder. He didn't outwardly react to this touch, besides a spike in his movements from shock. With her other hand, she reached out for Willow and took her hand tightly in her own.

With a flash of light and a pop of sound, they were gone.

* * *

"How is he?" Anya rose from her seat on the couch, as Willow came down the stairs.

They had relocated to the now empty Summers home on Revello Dr. It pained them both to be here, but it was the only place that seemed big enough for all three of them, and still allowed them some distance from each other if they needed it. And with the guilt currently being carried by two of the squatters, that would probably be important.

"Not much of a change. I finally got him into the bed, though. Unfortunately, Buffy's room was the only available one, since you and I are taking Joyce's." Her voice shook as she spoke the name of her friend.

Anya nodded, understanding the emotion of sleeping in that particular space. She sat back down and put her head in her hands. She wasn't sure where to go from here. The past couple of days, she had been occupied with the task of finding and taking care of Willow. Now that the redhead seemed capable enough, even going as far as to take care of Spike, Anya had no pressing matters.

Which caused her mind to wander to dangerous places.

She was relieved for the interruption.

"Anya," Willow hesitated, not sure how to phrase her worry. The blonde gestured for her to continue. "Do you have _any _idea, what might be responsible for his current state. I've never _seen_ him like this before." She threw her hands up in the air, as she slumped down into one of the sofa chairs.

"Well," she responded, wondering how the Witch would take these news, "being that I'm back as a Demon, I see things differently than regular humans. Kinda like how... Tara... could read auras." She spoke, careful of the name, just in case, but Willow didn't even seem to register it.

Anya feared that she was too far gone in her own grief over what she'd done, to consider even grieving for her lost lover.

"What are you saying, Anya?" Willow was confused, but felt that maybe she did know what the blonde was talking about.

But it couldn't be... Could it?

"I'm saying that, for whatever reason that I honestly can't think of at the moment, Spike has a soul. More precisely, he has _his_ soul. The original one from before he was turned. That's what I'm saying."

"Oh," she said, all breath leaving her body in one, loud whoosh.

She had thought it might be this, but imagining it and having it confirmed, was two _very_ different things. She wasn't sure how to deal with this. It had been another story with Angel. He had simply showed up in their lives, already with a soul. But Spike. The guy that she had so much history with.

The one that had scared her more than any other villain ever before, and simultaneously made her smile more than any other friend, sans Xander. The Vampire that had threatened her with a broken bottle and tried to bite her in her dorm room, only stopped by the chip. The man who had protected Tara by punching her in the nose and made her feel better in the RV, when her mind was gone.

She had never quite been able to put the two people together, to reconcile the Vampire with the man. But now... now, he had done the _one_ thing that she had never expected any Vampire to do. She knew, even without being told, that he had wanted this. Had wanted his soul.

He truly was a one of a kind, in more ways than even _she_ imagined.

It blew her mind.

And was the first thing to take her mind off the horror she had committed, since that fateful day in her bedroom.

"What do you think happened?" She asked, when she finally came out of her shocked trance.

Anya shrugged, having no clue what would make a Master Vampire go this particular route. Though having only heard stories, she couldn't imagine someone like Angelus actually asking for a soul, even before he knew what it was like to have one. Or any other Vampire, for that matter.

Though, if she were being honest, the fact that it was Spike who had done it, didn't surprise her as much as it probably should have. If any Vampire was going to switch sides, _before_ the soul, it would certainly be him. She had seen him, when no one else was looking, as he slowly changed over the last few years.

She suspected that it began, long before he realized he had feelings for the Slayer. Maybe even before the chip.

After all, she had heard about the truce he'd made with Buffy, back when their worst fears were Angelus and Acathla.

"Well," Willow spoke, bringing Anya back into the present, "I think that we could both use something to eat. It's been a long day." She stood and made her way into the kitchen, not hearing the mumbled response of the Demoness.

"More like a long couple of weeks," she muttered, before silently following the redhead into the kitchen.

No one said a word, as they rummaged around the room, pulling out bowls and pouring some cereal. It didn't matter that it wasn't morning, neither of them wanted to make a big fuss right now. They just needed to tame the beast that was their starving stomachs, before turning in for the night.

The night was eerily silent, as if it was the calm before the storm. The only sound heard was that of spoons hitting porcelain, as the women ate their meals, leaning against the kitchen table. Without realizing it, both of their intent gazes were fixated on the back door, leading out into the backyard.

Where it had all begun.

It was amazing to consider how big of a difference, one little man could make in the lives, and deaths, of so many people. That, after years of fighting the most powerful Demons known to man, and even one Hell-God, one tiny, man-made weapon, was what finally got the best of them in the end.

Irony is a funny thing...

As they were washing out the bowls in the sink, they heard a crash coming from upstairs. After a quick look at each other, they abandoned their task and hurried up the stairs, knowing that there was only one room where that noise could have emanated from. They burst through the door and took in the empty bed.

"Oh god," Willow said, capturing Anya's attention immediately.

There, beside the bedside table, pressed up against the wall as far as he could go, was Spike. He had his arms wrapped tightly around his legs, seemingly trying to push himself as much into an invisible ball, as he could. His body still shivered and they could hear almost silent mumbling coming from his moving lips. Tears were leaking from his eyes and the sight broke the two girls' hearts.

As if on silent agreement, they made their way quietly to his side at the same time. They were careful not to rush, treating him like a cornered animal, not wanting to scare him anymore than what he was obviously already going through. They each took place on either side of him, laying a hand on his shoulders.

He jumped slightly, from the sudden connection, but soon drifted back into his own misery. No one spoke a word, as they just decided to lend their silent support, as mere words would certainly not be enough, when confronted with something like this. Willow herself, wondered at the oddness of their current situation.

Not counting Angel, here in this room were the only three beings on the planet, who understood fully the concept of a soul. There was the Demoness who, in her short time as a human being, had her eyes opened up for all the pain she had caused in her past. The Master Vampire who had, for some inexplicable reason, gotten himself a soul and was now overwhelmed with the viciousness of his own guilt. And finally, the Witch who had always had a soul, and yet still done the unthinkable, which now left her dealing with the consequences, as well.

Willow let herself deflate and slid further down the dark wall, letting her head rest on the pale, shivering shoulder of the weeping Vampire. From the corner of her eye, she saw Anya copying her position, as they both let themselves relax and not worry too much about the past.

For now, it was just them, in this room, alone with their misery. Three kindred spirits, caught up in a terrible storm of human emotions. Bonded by the one thing that they shouldn't have been. Through death and destruction they had found each other and none of them were about to let go now.

It was the most peaceful any of them had felt for a long time.

And, with these gentle thoughts in mind, sitting on the cold hard floor, the only three Sunnydale fighters left now, fell asleep.

Wondering what tomorrow would bring.

* * *

As he came to, he felt utterly confused. It took him a while to recognize the room that he was in, though a jolt of fear sped through him, as he saw the bright morning light, filter in through the window, only a few feet from where he sat. He also suddenly realized how heavy he felt, as if he was being weighed down. He knew why, when he looked down at himself.

Two heads, one blonde, one red, both female, rested against his arms, snoring softly. Both bodies seemed to twitch slightly in their sleep, as if suffering from a nightmare. He slowly took in a deep breath and placed the two women immediately. But what Demon Girl and Red were doing in this particular position, he wasn't completely sure.

Something had changed, though.

The voices in his head still screamed at him, but it was like something had muffled them, or made them easier to ignore. At least, for the time being.

The last thing he remembered, that wasn't just a quick image passing through his mind, was sitting on that dirty ground in the dark cave, telling the Shaman to give him what he came for. Then, a bright light, followed by more pain than he had ever experienced, even more than anything Angelus had ever doled out in the first twenty years of his unlife.

And then... small snippets of memories were slowly coming back to him.

The dark space of an airplane, where he was clearly hiding in the cargo. The strange sensation he always got, when he returned to the Hellmouth. Then, another dark space. He couldn't remember where it was, though. Or how he had gotten to where he was now, in _her_ bedroom. With these two familiar women leaning against him.

The last time he had seen Red was when Buffy had been sick. He had passed her in the hall, after she had given the Slayer the antidote. And Demon Girl... well, no need to dwell on that little disaster. So, what were they doing here, like this?

His confusion was giving him a headache, on top of the constant one he already had from his spanking new soul.

As gently as possible, he maneuvered the women off him and rose from the floor. A twinge went through him at that moment and as he turned back, he realized why. He couldn't just leave those two, lying on the hard floor, even if they would probably wake up soon. Man, this soul was definitely something to get used to. Even the smallest things set if off, it seemed.

In the next few minutes, he lifted each woman up and put them on the bed, before gathering the covers on top. There was no sign of awakening through it all, so he felt safe to leave without letting them know he was gone, until they woke. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get out of here.

He felt it even more severely, when he passed the bathroom door.

He squeezed his eyes shut and balled up his fists, as he tried his hardest not to think of that fateful night. The things he had done to the woman he was supposed to love, how he had hurt her in the worst possible way. Even at his most evil, had he never thought himself capable of such a thing.

He couldn't even say the word, couldn't even think it.

He truly was a monster, and for the first time it had nothing to do with his nature. It was just _him_.

Finally able to pass that dreaded room, he made his way down the stairs and into the living room, where he grabbed a blanket. He pushed down the guilt he felt, at taking something without asking, but he couldn't stay here any longer. It was just a matter of time before Buffy returned from wherever she was, and he couldn't be here when that happened. He _shouldn't_ be here.

Throwing the dark blanket over his head, he rushed out through the back door and down the drain near the streets. He didn't allow himself to relax until he was safe inside the black sewers. Walking in no particular direction, he wandered through the wet and dirty underground of Sunnydale, trying not to let his mind do the same.

Hours passed, as he walked further along. He was sure that he was walking in circles, after all, the town wasn't _that_ big, but it didn't matter. Nothing did, at the moment. All he felt, all he would let himself feel, was the passing of the time. When darkness finally fell, he found himself in the vicinity of his crypt. Must be fate, he thought.

Crawling back out into the fresh air, for the first time in hours, he figured he might as well let Clem know that he was back, since he was in the area. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his black jeans, shivering at the reminder of his old coat and where it had come from, he made his way across the deadly silent graveyard.

No idea of what he was about to find.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the Summers home, the two women were sitting in the living room, somber looks on both their faces. They had woken up hours ago, but knew that there was no sense in looking for the Vampire, when it was still daylight outside. In the meantime, they had come up with a plan on how to find him, when darkness came.

Willow would return to the basement of the school, just in case he had gone back there in a daze. Anya would go to his crypt in Restfield, where she knew Clem was staying at the moment. She had also volunteered to be the one to go there, as she was kind enough to not want Willow seeing the effects of what she had so carelessly done.

She hoped, though, that Spike hadn't gone there. She still remembered far too clearly, the sight of the man she loved, lying still and lifeless on the ground. Spike had enough to deal with at the moment, seeing Buffy that same way would surely kill him. Maybe not even metaphorically.

With this sobering thought in mind, Anya looked outside and quickly got to her feet. "It'll be dark in less than twenty minutes. I say we go now, that way we'll get to our respective places, just when the sun goes down. Okay?" Her voice rose, along with her panic.

Not in the mood to ask her what was wrong right now, Willow simply nodded and the two women left the house, going in opposite directions when they reached the sidewalk. The redhead having no idea of what was about to occur, in the cemetery on the other side of town.

Anya rushed ahead, a quickness in her steps that she hadn't experienced in a while. She thought back on the last time she had taken this trip. If she'd had any idea of what she would find, she never would've gone. And now she had the chance to give that gift to Spike, if only she got there in time.

She raced even faster ahead, as she saw the sign for Restfield Cemetery in the distance, looming out over the rest of the surroundings. All the while screaming to herself in her head, praying that she wouldn't be too late. Unfortunately, perhaps due to her many years as a vicious Vengeance Demon, no one was listening to her pleas.

She stopped short, at the sight in front of her, heaving and out of breath.

On the ground they all lay, just as they had three days ago when she had first cast the glamor. She had never considered the fact that Spike, being a Master, would be able to see right through her feeble magic. Her gaze only passed over the bodies, before they came to lay on the shocked form of the Vampire in question.

"Spike," she whispered, her eyes tearing up at the heart-broken look on his face.

Just as suspected, his blue orbs were trained on the blonde, lying completely still on the ground. Her words seemed to do the trick, though, as he finally snapped out of his state and turned to look at her. His face was contorted in a mixture of disbelief, anger and one she recognized well, from back when Buffy had died on the tower. Loss.

"What happened?" He barely got out, in a raspy voice, before he fell to his knees, in between Buffy and Dawn.

Anya walked slowly to his side, kneeling down beside him. Like the night before, she lay a hand on his shoulder, as the tears began streaming down both their faces. She took a deep breath, fearing the next part. The one where she told Spike who was responsible. She had no idea what he would do. He may have a soul now, but just look at what a human being had done?

"Don't you wanna get outta here first?" She pleaded, trying to prolong the moment a bit more.

He shook off her hand, anger coming to the forefront now. "Don't, Anyanka. Just tell me!" He said, lifting the Slayer's head into his lap and slowly caressing her hair.

Anya sighed. "Five days ago, probably not long after you left, Warren came to Buffy's house. He wanted revenge. As far as I know, her and Xander were in the backyard, making up after the fight from... y'know. Anyway, Warren came running, interrupting them and waving a gun in front of his face."

She paused to take a deep breath and realized that Spike was now looking at her, instead of the body in his arms. She was sure he was wondering how her story would lead to their bodies being here, in this place and without any bullet wounds. She took one last shaky breath and continued.

"He shot three times, before running off. One hit the house, it was harmless. Another hit Buffy in the shoulder and she was rushed to the hospital, but Willow showed up and healed her, before anything serious happened."

"And the third?" He choked out, worried.

"It went through the upstairs window. Tara was dead before she hit the ground." She stated bluntly, but not without emotion.

"Oh god," was all he said.

"Yeah, I know. But, there's more. I'm sure you can guess what Willow's reaction was. Murderous grief," Anya's voice cracked on that last part and she watched as Spike's blue eyes turned to ice.

"You mean, _she_ did this?" He roared, in disbelief and anger.

"Calm down, Spike. You have to hear the whole story first, okay?" She pleaded once more with him and finally relaxed, when he appeared to do the same. "Now, where was I?"

"She showed up in the Magic Box. I was the only one there. I knew, the second I looked at her, that something was up. My inner Vengeance Demon could hear her scream of anguish. But I also knew that she was far beyond the call of a scorned woman. She wanted to handle her own revenge."

"Telepathically she tore down each and every one of the books in the restricted section of the shop. They poured down onto the table and opened of their own accord. I remember being completely frozen as I watched her put her arms inside the pages. The words, the ink, seemed to rush like a river up her body. When all the books were empty, Willow's eyes and hair was pitch black. And I knew. There was little of the woman we knew left inside now."

"She left, and I only know fragments of what happened next, since I wasn't around. I was busy cleaning up the shop. Apparently, she went to the hospital and healed Buffy, before heading out to find Warren. And boy, did she find him. According to what Buffy told me, before... she flayed him alive."

"Serves him right," was all she heard. Surprisingly enough, as it was coming from a newly ensouled Spike. But Anya understood. She had loved Tara, too.

"Anyway, after that she decided to go after the other two geeks, Jonathan and whats-his-face. I guess after killing Warren she got the taste for it. It didn't matter to her that they hadn't had any hand in what happened to Tara, she just wanted them gone. That's when she returned to the Magic Box. The boys had escaped the prison and come there."

"Oh wait, almost forgot. Before she caught up to the others in the shop, she went to Rack's place. Dawn found her there and Willow threatened to unmake her, y'know, turn her back into green energy. Well, Buffy showed up just in time and together the three of them, through Willow's magic, did this thing where they sorta teleported to the Magic Box."

"While Buffy was out trying to find Willow, me and Xander were busy trying to translate an ancient protection spell. It was in Sumerian or Babylonian or something. But when the three of them suddenly appeared in the shop, I knew we had to work fast. I hid behind one of the pillars and just started reading aloud, hoping that I got the pronunciation right. Giles always said that as long as you speak it correctly, it doesn't matter if you understand it."

"It worked. Willow did this thing where she hurled a bunch of magic, like an energy bolt, at Jonathan and the other guy, and it didn't hit them. But my nerves were shot, y'know. It was only a matter of time before she found me and stopped me, and then we'd all be dead. I tried to keep quiet, to whisper the words as silently as possible, while not freaking out over which one of my friends she might kill next. And then, she decided to go a different route."

"Realizing that she couldn't use magic on them, she decided to use it on herself. Juiced herself up somehow, I'm talking Slayer strong, maybe more. That's when Buffy stepped in. Xander used this distraction to get himself, Dawn and the nerds out. I told him I had to stay behind, keep working on the protection spell. Just in case. I know I never showed it before, and I feel bad about that now, but I really did care about Buffy. In a weird way, she was my friend. I wasn't just gonna leave her there, unprotected."

"'Preciate that, Demon Girl," Spike smiled a tiny smile, and squeezed her shoulder. She had talked for a while now, not noticing that he had calmed down somewhat. He was getting the story and he promised himself not to react in any way, until she was done talking. He understood grief better than most and was willing to give Red the benefit of the doubt. For now.

"Thanks, but stop interrupting me. I keep losing my place. Now where... oh, right. Willow was fighting Buffy, and winning I might add, when she found my hiding place. I thought I was gonna die. She just kept squeezing my throat, while I was dangling in mid-air. Then she threw me. I passed out and when I came to... Giles was there. He had been teleported in by a coven in England. He stopped her. I mean, not for long, but for at least an hour, she was immobile. If we hadn't been so busy catching up..." Sadness was everywhere on her face.

"Rupert? But then, where is he now?" Spike hadn't given the old Watcher much thought, thinking he was just back in London still, unaware of what had happened here.

"I'll get to that," Anya said in a grimace, thinking of the body lying locked up in the abandoned shop.

"Anyway, Buffy and Giles went into the backroom to catch up and I started cleaning up the shop. But then Willow woke up. She started speaking to me, in my head. It freaked me out. I hate it when she does that. I don't how she did it, but somehow she convinced me to let her go. It was like she was controlling me," she shivered. She wasn't sure she had forgiven the redhead for that part, just yet.

"Another fight ensued and then suddenly, Willow announced that she didn't have to be near the boys to kill them. She conjured up this huge fireball and sent it through the roof. Buffy, knowing that the geeks were with Xander and Dawn, rushed after them, knowing that Giles could handle himself. Or at least, she thought he could. I guess she didn't make it in time." She finished, looking down at the bodies around them.

Everything was silent for a while, as Spike took all he had just learned in, watching his beloved Slayer who still lay in his arms. He thought of everything that he felt right now, and everything he had felt last summer. And he knew. Knew that he couldn't hate Willow, despite how much he wanted to. Because he knew what she had felt, that grief. And he knew that anything he could do to her wouldn't be half as bad, as what her own grief and punishment was doing to herself.

"And Rupert?" He felt he knew the answer already, but needed to hear it out loud.

"She killed him and then left the shop. Don't know why she left me, though,"

"Cause you weren't a threat. Then what? Did she just... wise up?" It didn't sound plausible to him.

"No. Before he... died... Giles let Willow suck out all the magic that he had borrowed from the coven. Only, it was good magic, pure. She went to Kingmans Bluff, to bring back the old satanic temple there, that had been buried in the earthquake all those years ago. She was going to end the world. But with all of that magic inside her... once she began using it, everything finally unraveled, and she realized exactly what she'd done."

"I found her in a motel room on the outskirts of town, not long after I found... this," she said, gesturing to the scene before them. "I put a glamor over the cemetery, cause I wasn't ready to deal, I guess,"

"Well, that stops, now. They don't deserve to just lie here, as if no one cares. We need to figure out a story and then call the cops," Spike, not used to being the level-headed one, said what came first in his mind. His girls deserved a proper burial.

Anya sighed, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt this tired. "I think we can just call them. They'll probably come up with a better fake story than we ever could, since they're used to the ignorance. We'll just tell them that they went missing a few days ago and when we went looking for them, this is what we found."

"What about Rupert? Won't it seem odd that you're a witness to both events?" Spike didn't want to get Anya in trouble, she had been one of the few in the group who had actually been kind to him, even if it was in her own special, blunt way.

"I don't care. We can't wait much longer until the decay sets in," she shivered at the thought, "and it'll seem strange that the store isn't open. People will start asking questions soon, customers. I've gotten away with it, cause it's the weekend. But today is Monday and I can't keep it up any longer."

"Alright, let's call them, then."

Spike still didn't move away from his girls, leaving Anya to kneel beside Xander and dig out his cellphone, since neither her nor the Vampire had one of their own. The tears returned, as she looked into his empty, open eyes. Eyes that would never again look at her in a pleading way. Maybe, if she had given him a second chance... but no, she couldn't dwell on such thoughts. Not now.

Her hands shook as she slowly moved the fabric of his pants around, until she saw the cell fall out onto the damp ground below. She sighed in relief, grabbed up the phone and quickly crawled back to Spike's side. This was all far too... morbid.

"Okay, I'm just gonna go out to the front gates, just in case they're quick. I'll call them there." She stared at him, wondering if he would be okay, here on his own. But this had to be done, so she straightened her shoulders and finally left him to his sorrow.

As soon as Anya was out of sight, Spike began to rock back and forth, as tears leaked out, one by one, as a river down his face. He clutched her cold body to his own, pleading with whoever listened to bring back her warmth, her sweet and gentle embrace. Not that she'd ever used it on him, but still.

He didn't even dare look beside him, to see what had become of his little Bit. His sweet, innocent Dawn. The girl who had looked up to him, had trusted _him_, felt safe in his presence. The only one who he had truly been able to call a friend, out of the Scooby bunch. Sure, Tara and Anya were nice to him, but they weren't his friends. He'd only ever had two.

Dawn and Joyce.

And now they were both gone, along with his heart, his Slayer.

Was this his punishment? Is this the consequence of his decades of blood-spilling? To lose what little hope he had left in this world, that he may someday have a place. A home with people who cared about him. People who didn't just tolerate him because he could fight. Were they gone, because of him? Some twisted sense of karma?

He prayed that wasn't the case. He was sure he couldn't live with that particular scenario.

Because then, who would be next? And would he ever be able to allow himself to love again, if they risked their very deaths in his presence.

He wasn't sure.

And so here he sat, rocking the cold, dead body of his beloved Buffy, as he pondered where the blame lay. Wondering where he was going to go from here. He thought back to those final words, sung in the closed club, right before he had his first _real_ kiss with his Slayer.

How right that was...

_Why is the path unclear  
When we know home is near  
Understand we'll go hand in hand  
But we'll walk alone in fear_

_When does the end appear  
When do the trumpets cheer  
The curtain's close, on a kiss god knows  
We can tell the end is near_

_Where do we go from here..._

* * *

**Authors Note;** That's another one in the bag. The next one involves a very important trip and more answers. Remember to review :D


	3. Anger

**Authors Note:** It's time for the crossover chapter that just had to happen in a story like this :) Hope you enjoy.

**Summary:** The three survivors are still dealing with their grief and guilt, when it becomes clear that some things need to be done, before they can move forward with the actual funerals. But will they get more than what they bargained for?

* * *

- Anger -

It had been two days since Spike had found out the truth and, despite his promise to try to forgive the redhead, he still had yet to speak a single word in her presence. Even if Anya was in the room, he only spoke when Willow left. Contrary to what the Witch might believe, he was doing it for her sake. Scared that if he opened his mouth to her, he wouldn't be able to control what came out.

He was still angry.

He knew better than to expect the pain of loss to lessen, regardless of the time that passed. The only reason it had been removed, if only somewhat, last time, had been because the Slayer was resurrected. That was out of the question this time. Anya had assured him that Willow would be keeping her promise and the others would rest in peace.

The police had been by several times, trying to get the story to fit. Thankfully, the Demoness had been correct in her assumption and by now, the Sunnydale PD had concocted their own tale of what had happened. The sullen trio had not been interested enough to find out just _what_ they had come up with. As long as they were gone, for good.

They still had the funerals to tend to, though.

So many plans to be made. The only thing they had agreed on, from the beginning, was that they would all be buried at the same time. If they had to go to one funeral after another in the next week, they wouldn't survive, both mentally and physically. It just couldn't be done.

So, after the bodies of Jonathan and Andrew had been turned over to their respective parents, they set off to make plans for their fallen comrades. Spike and Anya agreed that Willow shouldn't get to speak at the service, as the morbid irony would be too much, despite how they professed to have forgiven her. The desolate redhead silently nodded her acceptance, when presented with this stipulation.

Now, they were two days away from the actual event and there was only one thing left to do.

Spike parked the car on the curb and then turned to the backseat. Willow was sleeping restlessly, tossing and turning, with tears running aimlessly down her cheeks. She was paler than usual and shivering all over. He sighed, in complete understanding. But it had to be done.

"Why don't you go ahead, pet. I'll get Red." He gazed at Anya, pressing her ahead with his eyes.

"Sure," she whispered, knowing that she was the only one without a past, connecting her to this place.

She didn't stay to watch as the Vampire opened the backseat door, though wondered whether or not he would wake the girl up. Because that's what she was now, just a girl. Gone was the self-assured woman, who had confidence in spades and the power to back it up. In her shell was a broken shadow of her former self, more reminiscing of the tiny, shy girl she had been in her high school years.

Especially when she realized where they were going.

Anya moved forward until she reached the doors of the grand hotel, operating as a detective agency. The two-hour trip, from Hellmouth to Hollywood, had felt much longer than that. Knowing what was awaiting them, Spike and Willow had been completely quiet on the long road and for once, Anya hadn't felt the need to break the silence. Not long after passing over the city limits, the redhead had fallen into a fitful sleep, rendering the car even quieter.

No one in Sunnydale had spoken to Angel since he left town, three years ago almost exactly. The only clue they had to his whereabouts, had been the rumors that Spike had heard, on his way to Africa. Apparently, someone had set up shop, fighting the good fight, and when he inquired further, there had been talk of a Vampire as the do-gooder.

No question who that was, Spike had thought and here they were.

Standing in front of an old, abandoned hotel that was apparently the home of the agency.

Spike cradled a still-sleeping Willow in his arms, as his eyes roamed the exterior. At the same time, he was trying to use his superior hearing to catch what was going on inside. Just in case they had been steered wrong, or the Vampire in question was using an excuse to feed. All he got were two heartbeats and the sound of low conversation.

Nothing seemed too incriminating, so he gave Anya one, curt nod and she proceeded ahead of him, holding the door open for him to pass through, with his precious cargo. They had barely made it down the few steps to the main room, before the two humans were standing in front of them, curiosity in their furtive glances to Willow's form.

Anya took the floor, as they had agreed on. "Hi, you wouldn't happen to know of a Vampire with a soul?" She started off, blunt as ever.

The man's eyes narrowed and Spike could see him closing off, having apparently chosen to distrust the three newcomers, until proven differently. The Vampire admired this trait and decided to give the boy a chance. Especially since the girl looked even more fragile than Glinda had, if such a thing was possible.

She also missed the message that the man was trying to send her. "Sure, Angel is our friend. I'm Fred, by the way, and this is Gunn. Why are y'all looking for Angel?" She asked, face completely open and kind.

Spike realized that his comparison with Glinda might not be so far off. He lifted his scarred eyebrow in interest, but still kept his mouth shut. This was Anya's moment.

"Oh, I'm Anya," she smiled, though more falsely than she would have under different circumstances. Then she waved a hand toward her companions. "This is Spike and Willow. Sorry about just barging in, but we kinda need to see the big guy. We've got some... news." She said, as her smile finally began to crack.

Gunn turned his eyes on the Vampire. "Spike?" he said, before looking away. "Why does that sound familiar?" He mumbled to himself, before putting it away for later consideration.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but we haven't heard from him in several days. We've tried to find him, but so far we've had no luck." Fred said, her face falling at the thought of her friend's disappearance.

"Is that right?" Spike said, hiding his smile. It hadn't been his idea to come here.

Anya smacked him lightly on his shoulder and took over again. "What Spike is trying to say, is that we _really _need to speak to him. Soon. Maybe we can help look for him?" She offered, not yet ready to give up.

Willow had been insistent and honestly, Anya agreed. Despite how things had ended, Angel deserved his chance to say goodbye, at the very least. If that meant staying for a little while longer, they could deal. Anya, for one, was happy to be away from that memory-inducing town, if only for a couple of days more than planned.

Fred's smile grew from welcoming to joyful. "That'd be great, thanks. We could definitely use the extra hands, so to speak. Do you have a place to stay? Cause we got plenty of rooms," she offered. Which was when Gunn decided to jump in.

"Fred, could I talk to you for a moment?" He bit out through clenched teeth, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the office.

Not aware that their two, awake, visitors, were a bit more than human, they began to argue. Spike and Anya shared amused glances, as they listened in to the heated conversation. It was obvious to them who held the power in that relationship, as Gunn finally backed down, under what Spike was sure, was Fred's menacing glare.

The two returned to the main room, a quiet Gunn who was sending them unsure glances, while the smile was back on Fred's face. She clapped her hands together and told them to follow her and she'd show them to their rooms. Anya excused herself to go get their bags from the car, though they hadn't packed much. She sensed a shopping trip coming up and it put a genuine smile on her lips. She'd never gotten the chance to explore the many shops of Los Angeles before, despite her age.

Two hours later they had been settled in and was planning on joining the two others downstairs, for some dinner. Spike had discussed it with Anya, and they had decided to keep their Demonic status a secret, for now. The man, Gunn, seemed the type to blow up at such news, despite his obvious positive relationship with the souled Vampire.

Before they left their rooms, however, Spike went over to the bed to wake up the redhead. She would be starving by now, and besides, he didn't want her to miss out on too much. He was planning on using dinner as the moment to inquire into his Grandsire's disappearance. And he knew that the Witch should be there for that.

"Red," he whispered, speaking to her for the first time since before leaving for Africa, while he shook her shoulder.

After what they had learned and offering their help in the search, he figured that he would have too much on his mind, to take his anger out on the small woman. He was right, of course, because as soon as she opened her green eyes on him, he felt only pity and a swell of something that resembled kinship.

Which was understandable, given the circumstances.

"Spike?" She spoke, blurry voice, surprised that he was approaching her. She had been sure he would need a lot more time.

"Yeah. I need you to get up, there's been some... roadblocks. We need to get downstairs." He said, as he helped her to her feet.

Once they came closer to finding Angel, her guilt had hit her all over again. At the time, Spike hadn't wanted to comfort her, feeling that she deserved it. But now, he decided to look past that, for the sake of what the Slayer would have wanted. He was sure that, out of all of them, only the Bit was capable of holding a grudge towards the redheaded woman. The others would have already forgiven her, he didn't doubt.

So he took his cue from them.

Willow rubbed her eyes free of sleep and once her head was clear enough, she followed her two companions out the door. On their way down, Spike explained the situation and where they were, to the confused girl. She didn't say a word, surprised at the turn the night had taken. This was definitely an unexpected complication.

After introductions were made and the food was passed around, Spike approached the tender subject of the missing Vampire. But things only got more interesting from there.

"Angel has a son?" Willow exclaimed, when the topic of Connor and his origins came up.

Fred looked sheepish, while she continued. "Yeah, we were pretty shocked, too. Darla showed up earlier this year, all pregnant and stuff. Turns out there was some kind of prophecy, about the child of two Vampires."

When Willow's shock continued at the mention of Jesse's killer, Fred dived even further into the past events, to explain the presence of the Master Vampiress. Realizing that they were getting off track, Spike cleared his throat and sent the redhead a meaningful look, when he got her attention. She was sufficiently shamed and turned the conversation back on track.

"Okay, now we know who Connor is, and why he's apparently fully grown despite being born less than six months ago. Let's get to the hours leading up to Angel's disappearance. What exactly happened?"

"Well," Fred says, deciding to just jump straight to it. "Connor, Angel, Gunn and me went to the movies about a week ago. It didn't last long, since we were jumped by Wolfram & Hart, but that's another story," she blushed, seeing their confused stares. There wasn't time for more backtracking. "When we came back here, the phone was ringing. Apparently Cordy wanted to meet up with Angel on the bluffs, about an hour from here. Neither of them have been seen since." She finished, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

Willow wasn't sure where to start. "Cordy?"

It was a fairly common name. Right?

Gunn finally decided to give the newcomers a chance and spoke up. "Yeah, she's one of the people who works with Angel, like us. They have a past, or something. I've never really asked."

The redhead started shaking her head slowly, from side to side. She couldn't believe it. "Please tell me you're not talking about Cordelia Chase." She begged them, but from their faces she knew that there was no such luck.

"You know her, too?" Fred asked, interested in the connection.

"That'd be a big yeah. I've known her pretty much since kindergarten. She even dated my... best friend, for almost a year, in high school." She swallowed past the lump from mentioning Xander, but was proud of how she was able to power through.

"Wow," Gunn said, eyes wide. He certainly wasn't expecting this. Without noticing it, a sliver of trust slid into his being, at these news. And then he turned to the two others. "What about you, did you know her?"

Spike shrugged his shoulders. "Met her once or twice, not enough to leave much of an impression. Although, I always thought she had a bit of a bite," he smirked, showing that it was obviously an appreciated quality in his eyes.

"Yeah, that's Cordy for ya," Gunn laughed, relaxing a bit. Then he turned to Anya.

"Sure. I moved to Sunnydale during Senior year and Cordelia was the first one I befriended. We never got very close, since she had a lot to deal with, but I always liked her. Despite the fact that I ended up being engaged to the ex Willow spoke of."

"Seems everybody knows her, then." Fred smiled. "Is that how you guys know Angel, too?"

"Well, personally I've only met the guy once and we weren't introduced, but I know that Willow has a past with him." Anya said, deliberately leaving Spike out of the equation.

"Yeah, I don't know how much you've been told, about his time in Sunnydale?" The Witch asked, not wanting to confuse them, like she herself had been just minutes earlier.

"All we know is that he dated the Slayer and helped her and her friends fight evil on the Hellmouth. Something about it being a rough break up, but none of them ever really talked about that part." Gunn said, a curious look in his eyes.

"Well, I was one of those friends. Y'know, who fought with the Slayer. Buffy." Willow congratulated herself on speaking the name out loud without breaking down. In turn, Spike reached behind Anya's back and squeezed the redhead's shoulder, in a show of support.

"Does that mean that you knew Wesley, too?" Fred's voice was low and she glanced at Gunn as she spoke.

He didn't say anything, but Spike could tell that he wanted very much to glare at his girlfriend. The Vampire sensed that this had nothing to do with his distrust of them, but something a lot more personal from before they ever showed their faces in Los Angeles.

Willow couldn't help the small snicker. "Not Wesley Wyndam-Pryce? Last time I saw him, he'd never work anywhere _near_ a Vampire, soul or not." She just couldn't picture it.

Spike had never met the former Watcher, so he held no opinion and Anya hadn't paid attention to him when she _did_ meet him, in the past. Only Willow recognized the ridiculousness of the idea, that the girly man would actually be working with the same Vampire whose death sentence he might as well have signed, after Faith poisoned him.

"Guess things change. But, he doesn't work here anymore," Gunn bit out and his tone made it clear that the topic was closed.

For now, Willow thought. Maybe she could corner Fred later, get the full story.

The girl in question glanced at her boyfriend, before letting it go. "Yeah, so, that's the story. We've been by Cordy's place, but there's nothing there to tell us what might've happened. We found Angel's car, abandoned by the cliffs at the beach, but no sign of him or Cordelia. Frankly, we've come to the end of the line. No more clues."

The three visitors pondered the news for a few minutes, trying to figure out where to go from here. Obviously these two had exhausted all the contacts they had in town, but with Spike being a Demon, he might have more luck. The only problem being that he wasn't overly familiar with this city. He'd have to change that though, wouldn't he.

Anya silently offered her teleportation ability, in case they needed a place checked out. It would go much faster that way. But it was Willow who came up with the actual help. Which, being a Witch, wasn't so surprising. How to go about it, though?

"Wesley was a Watcher, so that means that he has done magic in the past, right?" She asked, stopping the conversations that had begun around the room.

Gunn glared at her. "I told you, he's not here and it's gonna to stay that way."

"Charles," Fred laid a hand on his arm. "Let's hear what she has to say. This isn't about Wesley, it's about finding Angel and Cordy." She implored him, staring deep into his brown eyes.

Finally he sighed, lowered his head and gestured for Willow to go on with what she was saying.

"Thank you, Fred. Anyway, what I meant was that we could just do a simple locator spell. We would need something of theirs, but I suspect that won't be an issue."

Awareness came to all four of them, as they realized the implications of her words. It was so simple, that it surprised them to not have thought of it before. Of course, for the two Los Angeles fighters, it had more to do with the absence of the only magic user on the team. They had simply learned to survive without enchanted help.

But now, they couldn't avoid it.

"We could go to him, if you don't want to see him," Willow offered, sensing the tension in the room, when the former Watcher was brought up.

"That's probably a good idea," Fred agreed, still staring at her boyfriend's demure stature.

"Then it's settled," Anya said, clapping her hands together. "Just point us in the right direction and we'll be on our way."

* * *

It had been less than an hour since Lilah had left his bed and Wesley tried to ignore how cold the sheets felt, in comparison. He heard the unmistakable clang, as Justine tried to beat down the bars of her new cell. It had been only a few days since he had stumbled upon her, after hearing the news of his old boss' disappearance. And he had known that she was partly responsible.

He didn't allow himself to slow down and think about what he was doing. If he did, he was scared that everything would come crashing down around him. He had betrayed one of his closest, and only, friends. He was literally sleeping with the enemy. He had begun carrying firearms everywhere he went. And, he was keeping a human woman, locked up in his closet, with only a bucket for company.

If his father could see him now, he thought with a grim mask.

When the knock came on the door, his first thought was that Lilah had returned, but he knew that it was impossible. She never brought enough stuff to actually leave something here and she never came back twice in one night. The only one else he could think of was Emil, but he wasn't due for another three days.

So, it was with the trepidation of a seasoned fighter, that he buttoned up his shirt, stuffed the fabric in his pants and left the bedroom. Secure in the knowledge that Justine was gagged, he took in a deep breath and opened the door. Shock wasn't a big enough word, to describe what he felt when he saw his visitor.

"Willow?" He said, forgetting for a moment that he'd never been on a first name basis with the young girl.

No, not girl. Woman, as she so obviously was now.

"Wow, Wesley, look at you." She said, her eyes wide open. "You sure have changed." But there was nothing in her voice other than surprise, which the older man was happy for.

She couldn't help but to stare. Not that the man had ever worn tweed, at least not while in Sunnydale, but he certainly hadn't dressed like this. It was even more relaxed than Giles had become over the years. Trading out the drab, gray suit for rough jeans and a dark red lumberjack shirt definitely suited him. Despite the gay-ness of her new self, she couldn't help but take notice and one glance to her side told her that Anya was also not blind.

"Yes, well," he said, not sure how to approach this. "Might I ask why you're here?" He said, glancing at her two companions. The man struck a familiarity in him, that he pushed away, but the woman was completely foreign.

"Oh, sure." The redhead almost yelled, so caught up in her appraisal of the man that she forgot herself for a moment. "I don't know if you've heard about the whole Angel and Cordelia situation?" She started off, finding it odd to still be in the hallway, but also knowing that it would help. It meant that they didn't have to explain why Spike needed an invitation to get in.

"Angel, yes," he said, face suddenly closed off and only lending more fuel to the mystery that had started with Gunn's emotional outburst. "However, I have heard nothing about Cordelia. Is she missing as well?" His brows furrowed. Despite making it clear which side she picked, Cordy had been as much a friend as the Vampire and he worried for them both.

He wondered if the two disappearances were linked, highly likely as it was.

"Yeah, and apparently on the same night, around the same time. According to Fred, the girl we met at the hotel, the two of them were supposed to meet up about an hour from here, and no one's heard from them since. That was almost a week ago."

Spike was the only one who noticed a shift in the man's emotions, when the young Texan was mentioned. He wondered if the issue was a triangle between the three people he had met, or if it lay deeper than that.

"Oh, well, that is certainly incriminating. Doesn't explain your presence here, though," he said, still curious.

Anya piped in this time, charmed by the sexy, British man, who was a younger, rougher version of her old boss. "Fred and Gunn had exhausted all the avenues and that's when Willow came up with the idea to do a locator spell. Only, she's not doing magic at the moment and so we need your expertise." She smiled, flirting slightly.

One look at Willow's ashen face and Wesley refrained from asking why she wasn't doing the spell. Instead he wondered why he hadn't thought of this, _before_ chaining a woman up in his closet. Shaking his head, these thoughts weren't going to be much help at the moment, he nodded his agreement and willingness to aid.

"We'll need something of theirs," he said, thinking he had found the flaw in their plan.

"Right here," Willow smiled slightly, holding up a black shirt and a brown comb, which still held some of Cordelia's newly blonde hair.

"Looks like you've got everything covered, then. Well, come in, and we'll get started." He said, turning around to walk into the small living room.

Not realizing that he had just given an invitation to a Vampire.

The three were relieved, not having expected how easy that would be. They had been sure that it would take them hours, just to convince the former Watcher to give Spike a chance, but apparently he didn't even know who was in his midst, let alone in his apartment.

No need to break his bubble, just yet. They had things to do.

Anya and Willow took a seat on the couch, with Spike hovering near the front door, hands in his jean pockets, while Wesley rummaged through a drawer in his desk by the window. A few minutes later he joined the girls, laying a large map of Los Angeles out on the table and various spell ingredients as well.

"It shouldn't take more than a few minutes," he explained, not sure if Willow knew the facts herself.

She didn't. Despite her years of experience, this wasn't a spell she'd ever needed to use. Amazingly enough, they always kept a good record of where everyone was, at least when it came to a fight. And, they were mostly together as a team, when something big went down, anyway. So it had just never been necessary to learn.

Another reason coming to Wesley had been a good idea, as he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. He finished grinding the stuff together with a mortar, before sprinkling it over the map, while he mumbled some low, Latin words under his breath. Willow followed everything he was doing, more for curiosity than anything else.

She was done with magic. For real, this time.

With some of Cordelia's hair and a cut corner of Angel's shirt also in the mix, it was surprising when only one, glowing spot showed up on the map. All four of them leaned closer into the map, worried about the end result. It had obviously worked, but why this was the outcome, they didn't know. Nor did they know which missing person the dot belonged to.

"It's out by the beach, probably the one where you said they were supposed to meet. Although I don't know why it didn't work properly," his brows furrowed in worry.

Anya was the one to point out the obvious. "Maybe one of them isn't in town anymore. I mean, this _is_ a map of Los Angeles, not the entire world."

"Of course," Wesley said, rising from his bent position, realizing how stupid he had been, for not thinking of this himself.

Willow was feeling much the same, while Spike couldn't care less. Just because he had a soul and was suddenly finding himself worried about other people than just those that he knew, he was decidedly cold, still, when it came to his Grandsire. Though he did feel a slight twinge over the cheerleader, silently hoping that it was _her _presence causing the only dot on the map.

It would make his unlife easier, were that the case. Though he knew his luck too well to hope for anything like that.

"I just don't get it," Willow said, frustrated. "I mean, Fred said that they'd checked the beach and all they found was Angel's car. Why is he, or Cordy for that matter, still there, when it's been almost a week."

Speaking up for the first time, Spike threw in his two cents. "Look at the map, Red. Whoever's out there, isn't on the beach, they're in the water," he pointed out and sure enough, the glowing spot was hovering over a piece of blue map, that indicated the sea.

"I don't know about you, but I'm hoping it's Angel," Anya said, holding up her hand as if she was in a classroom.

"It is," Wesley said, also peeking closer at the map. "The locator spell doesn't work if the one you're looking for is dead, and since Cordy wouldn't survive so long under water..." he drifted off, when he saw that all three understood.

"Guess that gives us somewhere to start," Spike said, trying to usher the girls out.

They got the point.

"I'd like to help," Wesley said, when they stood in the doorway. They stared at him, while he shuffled his feet. "I know that I'm not particularly welcome anymore, but he is still my friend." He said, suddenly holding his head up high, trying to dare them to rebuke him.

Besides, he might have a way of narrowing it down, he thought, with a furtive glance towards the closet at his right.

A glance that didn't go completely unnoticed.

"Alright," Spike said, turning to the girls, "why don't you head on back to the hotel. I'll stay here with Percy and we'll meet you in a few hours by the beach. We'll even take care of the boat issue," he said, telling them with his eyes that he had business here.

Willow didn't know him well enough yet, to read him, but Anya got the picture and quickly ushered the redhead along with her, with a promise to be at the agreed spot in two hours.

With that, Spike closed the door on the girls and turned to the curious ex-Watcher. It wouldn't do to tip his hand just yet, so he was counting on the man being too shocked, to wonder how he knew. He took one step to the side and, before Wesley could stop him or yell out, opened the closet door.

Years as one of the cruelest Vampires this world had ever seen, prepared him for what he found. Besides, he had already heard the hurried heartbeat and labored breathing, along with the whispered panic of the prisoner inside. When he saw the bars, his appreciation for the man went up a notch.

Along with a begrudging sense of respect, despite the soul.

"I suppose saying 'it isn't what it looks like' is out of the question," Wesley said, sounding tired suddenly.

Spike shrugged his shoulders. "Don't much care what you do with your free time, mate. As long as this won't interfere with our plans, it's none of my business." He said and Wesley could tell that he meant it, surprising as that was, since his presence alongside Willow told him that the man was on the side of good.

He had no idea.

"It might actually help," he said, cryptically, before going on to explain who the woman was.

When she started to protest, after mentioning that Angel was trapped under water, they knew that they had hit the mark. Not only had they been right in their assumptions, but this woman knew exactly where in the ocean he was, as well. That would certainly help.

A half hour later, Justine was out of the closet jail that had kept her for the last four days, and was instead sitting on the couch, while Wesley gathered some things. When Spike had mentioned that they would probably need blood for the Vampire, they had agreed to stop by the butcher on their way out. Which meant that they were on a tight schedule.

The sudden ring of the phone made the three of them jump, in the otherwise silence of the room. Still busy with his task, Wesley gestured for Spike to pick it up, having an idea of who it was. Not very many people had his number and those that did, hadn't called in months.

"'Lo? Is that right? Explains a lot, I guess. Yeah, no problem. Least it means less angst, if they stay back. We're on our way out now. Alright, we'll see you soon," he put the phone back in its place and turned for the other man.

"Was that Willow?" He inquired, stopping in his movements, the bag hanging from his hands.

"Anya," he corrected, before explaining the call. "Apparently the kid had a hand in Angel's disappearance act. When they showed up at the hotel he was knocking around that Gunn guy. Fred was already out cold. Turns out that they had told him of the night's discoveries and plans, when he showed up at the hotel. Anya suspects that he might show up here, so we should move out."

"I agree," the man said, zipping up his bag and pulling on his coat.

Spike pushed down his wish for his own coat, but he hadn't had a chance to ask the girls yet, if they knew where it was. He was sure that Buffy had burned it or thrown it out, which was probably what had kept him from looking. Soul or not, he'd had that duster for a long bloody time and he wasn't about to let some pesky guilt keep him from wearing it.

Shaking off these thoughts, he followed the other man to the front door, turning to the woman. "Time to go, pet," he said, the nickname taking on a whole new meaning, when it came to this particular individual.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she said, her voice shaking in spite of her strong words.

Rolling his eyes, Spike walked the short distance to the couch and pulled her up with some force. He felt a slight twinge in his head from the chip, but bullied through. However, when she started to resist his hold, the pain grew and he knew he only had one choice. He had to intimidate her.

"Don't let this color your judgment of me, mate. Got it?" He said, looking at the former Watcher.

All Wesley could do was nod, not quite understanding. That is, until Spike went into game face and growled at Justine, who was now cowering away, trying to bend her body so it wasn't so close to the upset Vampire. With a hit of epiphany, Wesley realized why the man looked so familiar.

"William the Bloody," he whispered, but of course the man in question heard him.

"It's Spike, mate. Now, les' go," he said, but didn't take a step.

The two men seemed to be locked in a stare for a long while, no one moving an inch. Justine's eyes were going back and forth, not sure which one was safer. The one who had her locked up in a closet for several days, barely feeding her, or the man who wasn't a man and was everything she abhorred.

It was quite the dilemma.

While she was raging her inner war, the man at the door seemed to finally come to a decision. He shouldered his bag and grabbed the keys off the table by the door, before giving Spike one, curt nod, as he moved through the opening and out into the hallway. Spike released a breath he didn't have to hold and pulled Justine, carefully, with him.

She knew better than to struggle, which made the Vampire smile. He certainly wouldn't be enlightening the Watcher of his chipped status, while she was in their company. A good dose of fear, and she was doing whatever he wanted. There was no reason to ruin that, while she was still useful to them.

He had a feeling that his soul wouldn't matter much to her. Call it instinct.

The three of them got into Spike's DeSoto and set off for the cliffs.

* * *

Staring out over the dark and murky waters, Spike was deep in thought. Mostly about the last time he saw his hated Grandsire. It was before he had anything but ill will to wish upon the Slayer. Or, at least before he was _aware_ of anything else. It was when he had told the sickly sweet couple about how it would work out for them, in the end. That they would never be friends.

His snort was an ironic one. All he had wanted, when realizing that Buffy would never love him, was friendship. But then, it didn't count with them, not really. She'd be the first to say that what they'd had wasn't a relationship, just hateful sex. So maybe they would've made it.

It often crossed his mind. What could've been, if they'd never started their dirty affair. Before Sweet came to town, they had started something, he could tell. She was opening up to him, sharing things that she refused to tell her friends or sister. Even her usually trusted Watcher. Only Spike.

He had reveled in that.

Ripped from his thoughts, he looked out over the sea, where Wesley and Willow were arriving on boat. They had been the two chosen to go to the docks, since someone intimidating needed to stay by Justine. Anya and Spike were the ones best known for the fear they could put into others. All the Demoness had had to do, was flash some face and the young woman had been noticeably quiet since.

It was one thing to deal with Vampires, at least she was overtly aware of their existence, but a Vengeance Demon?

Spike signaled the two women, who were currently sitting in the DeSoto, and then waited for them to join him. With a hand on each shoulder, Anya quickly teleported the three of them onto the somewhat large fishing boat. The first thing Justine did, when she overcame the shock of what had been done to her, was relieve the few contents of her stomach out over the ship's edge. At least she had the common sense of not letting it out _inside_ the boat.

"Weakling," Anya said, rolling her eyes, before joining the others inside the small house by the helm.

It was more than three hours, before they hit the jackpot. Unfortunately, the dot on the map wasn't entirely clear and so they had been forced to search. At first, they had been tempted to throw Justine out, but the idea was nixed. Both because of the soul Spike now sported, which Wesley promptly found out about, and also because it would take too long.

Instead, the one who could breathe under water was chosen.

Spike had stripped himself of the black shirt and docs, diving into the freezing, black water for what felt like the thousandth time. If not for the knowledge that Angel was stuck below, he would have given up a long time ago. It was bad enough that the one person who _didn't_ want to find him, was the one doing the actual searching.

And then he saw it. A large box that had no business in the sea, especially not when there was no sign of a shipwreck anywhere near it. He swam towards it as quickly as possible, finding the tiny window that let him identify the content. Angel obviously hadn't been under here for long enough to lose his mind, if his expression at seeing his errant Grandchilde was anything to go by.

He looked absolutely furious. And Spike was enjoying it far too much.

Offering Angel a thumbs up and a big grin, he returned to the surface to relay the news to the others. Leaving behind one brassed off Master Vampire, who was swallowing way too much water in his attempt to curse out the bleached menace and regular pain in his ass.

Less than five minutes later, Spike was back in sight, a long steel cable in his hands. When Angel realized that he was about to be rescued he, quite unwillingly, accepted the help. The blonde Vampire attached the hook to the box and pulled on the cable, indicating that it was ready to be pulled up. Grabbing a tight hold, he allowed himself to be pulled to surface, alongside the container.

On the boat the others stood ready with various things. Willow was unpacking the blood from the butcher shop, Wesley was holding a burner, ready to use on the hard steel of the box and Anya was inside, guarding the elusive Justine. Not that she had anywhere to run, but they weren't going to take the chance that she would jump.

They weren't animals, after all, and she'd most likely drown before ever making it to shore.

Another five minutes passed and then Angel was breathing actual fresh air. He was still glaring at a smirking Spike, who was smart enough to keep his distance. Or maybe he just wanted to irritate his Grandsire by being out of reach. That one sounded more likely.

Thankfully for the others, the brown-haired Vampire had yet to find his voice. When he tried to scream, alternating between Spike and Wesley, only a coarse sound was released. Willow chose that moment to step in with the nutrients and Angel was quick to accept, choosing to ignore the two men that he hated more than anyone else in the world.

He still glared, though.

"Great way to thank us," Wes whispered, as he went to stand by Spike.

The Vampire snorted. "Wouldn't expect anything less from the poofter," he responded, not trying to keep quiet like the other man.

Wesley shrugged in silent agreement. His time away from the group had taught him a thing or two about the Vampire he had called boss. While he could certainly never blame him for the way he'd reacted, when Connor had been kidnapped into another dimension, he had at least expected the older man to understand, if even on a smaller level. But all he got was hatred. Which wasn't that bad, compared to the seething loneliness of losing everything that mattered to him.

Realizing that getting them to leave was a losing battle, Angel did his best to ignore them on the long way home. No words were spoken, when Spike, Wesley, Anya and Justine got into the DeSoto and Willow joined her old friend in the convertible. The three men wouldn't have it any other way.

The foursome made their way into town, trying to figure out what to do about Justine. Surely she had seen too much, but unfortunately, with Spike's brand new soul, they couldn't even leave the clean up to him. Anya herself, despite not having her soul anymore, wasn't up for murder just yet. Not when what had happened in Sunnydale still lay so close to her heart. Who knew if anyone would grieve the self-proclaimed Vampire hunter, but no one was willing to take that chance.

While they attempted to come up with a solution, Angel and Willow were likewise discussing a rather tenuous topic. The threesome's presence in Los Angeles.

The redhead was wringing her hands and sweating up a storm. This wasn't a conversation she wanted to have while trapped in a moving car with the easily irate Master Vampire. "Something happened," she whispered, trying to remember the story that had been concocted.

All three of them had agreed not to tell the LA people the truth. There was no saying how they would react, as they hadn't been around and didn't really know the Hellmouth players. So, an excuse had been made up, one that they were sure would be completely believable, given the past Apocalypses of the small town.

"What?" Angel asked, with a sense of foreboding. Why hadn't Buffy come?

She took in a deep breath, gathering all her strength and turning to look right into his eyes. "For the past year, these three guys have made life a living hell for Buffy. They're just human boys, so none of us took it very seriously. We should have. Last week," was it only one week ago, less even, since their worlds had been turned upside down?

"Go on," Angel spoke, not aware of what was going on inside the redhead's spinning mind.

"Right," she said, mentally shaking herself out of the stupor. "Last week, the three decided to rob an armored truck. But Buffy found out about it and went to stop it. Which she did. Two of them were caught by the police, but the last one, the leader in a way, got away. The next morning, he showed up at the house,"

Her hands were shaking now and Angel decided to pull the car over. He had only just come off the highway and found a small parking lot near a restaurant. Covering one of her pale hands with his own, he silently encouraged her to continue. After a few minutes, she finally did.

"He had a gun. Things were happening so fast, I didn't even notice until... he shot..." and then she burst into tears.

Angel didn't know what to say. Obviously something bad had happened and an uncomfortable feeling was beginning to settle like a stone in his stomach. He feared asking her any further, but knew that he had to be told. He had to hear it out loud, or he'd never believe it.

Regaining her composure, though tears still stained her cheeks, she went on. "It was a slaughter. Tara... was first. Then Dawn, who was in the room with us. Xander and Buffy were in the backyard, it was Buffy he was targeting. They didn't stand a chance," she was numb now and the words rushed out in a monotone.

She hated this. Hated that she was blaming this on someone else, even if it was the one who had started it all. She wanted to take responsibility, wanted to scream out that it was her. That she was the one that murdered all of her loved ones, in cold blood and with a smile on her face.

But she couldn't.

Despite everything that had happened, everything she was feeling, she didn't want to die. And she had no doubt, not one iota, that Angel would rip out her throat if he knew the truth. It was one of the reasons why she had never really been truly comfortable around him, even before he lost the soul. She looked into his eyes and saw... danger.

When Angel still hadn't spoken a word, she continued. "We wanted to come here, to tell you... the funeral is in two days, at Restfield. It's at night, so there'll be no problem for... you," she didn't mention that it had been planned that way for Spike's sake, not his. There was no point.

The Vampire was numb. The pain he was feeling wasn't the cause, though. It was the lack of pain. Oh, it hurt alright. He'd never loved anyone, until he met Buffy. But over the last few years, he had come to realize something. Something that scared him.

His love for the Slayer had never been what he thought it was.

Cordelia had taught him that.

With Buffy and him, it had been all drama, something akin to Romeo and Juliet. It was a forever love, diluted with angst and terror and broken hearts. He couldn't remember a single moment, when they had made the other laugh out loud, or even smile more than the smile of the smitten. It was puppy love and he knew when that had come to him.

Cordy had been his friend first. Then his _best_ friend. They had shared everything and anything. Had gone through the loss of Doyle together and come out on top. She had seen his highs and lows and still loved him all the same. More, even. And he loved her. With a fire that came out of knowing. A fire that grew over time, instead of the instant attraction he had felt for the Slayer.

But still he grieved. For lost opportunities and for a girl who would never again have the shot at love that he now had.

Of course, he still didn't know Cordelia's fate.

But then, no one did.

And so she watched, from the Heavens above, as her friends mourned the loss of the many fighters that had been taken far too soon. She shed many tears for her old flame and the people she had once called somewhat friends. And she waited... waited for something she didn't know.

But she would be waiting for a long time.

* * *

**Authors Note:** And then, coming up next, we have a chapter that was very emotional for me to write. Remember to review, people, I got nothing so far :(


	4. Bargaining

**Authors Note:** This one was very difficult for me to write, in the fact that it made me weep :) It's a very emotional chapter, for me at least. Please let me know what you think.

**Summary:** The three Sunnydale survivors have returned from Los Angeles and are ready to begin the night of the funeral. This will not be an easy time for any of them, but maybe some lessons will be learned, before the night is over.

* * *

- Bargaining -

Perhaps it was a morbid sense of irony, that the moon was full tonight.

Willow spared a thought, even if it was only momentarily, for her old lover and wondered what he was doing at this point in time. Whether he was locked up in a cage, far from here, or if he had regained the control of his wolf, that had been lost, with the revelation that his ex had moved on to a woman.

It didn't last long, though and she was violently pulled from her wayward thoughts, by a shoulder pushing into her own. They'd had quite the turnout, for this night. Though none of the them was up for answering questions right now. Especially not the one, where the others wondered why it was being held after darkness had fallen.

It wasn't the business of anyone else. For that matter, they allowed Angel to think it was for his sake.

Though Willow was surprised that he hadn't figured it out.

Maybe it was just her, but Spike's place in their much smaller group now, seemed clear, but perhaps not to him. He stood a few feet away from her, in between Gunn and Fred, and she could tell that he was trying his best not to glare at the two men, who were in turn surrounding her.

She was glad that Wesley had decided to come.

The young Brit was whispering lowly with Anya, both wearing the traditional black. On the other side of the redhead, Spike stood, who was the only one besides Angel, who appeared the same, although his duster still hadn't been found. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and there was a frown on his face. Only Willow and Anya noticed the clench of his jaw, the only thing keeping his tears at bay.

He wouldn't give Peaches the pleasure of seeing him fall apart.

He'd wait until later, when everyone was gone.

Then he'd let it go. Just this once.

As would be the case with family massacres, the sight before them was terrible. Four caskets lay beside each other and the only thing Willow could think of, was what a shame it was that Tara had been buried alone. She felt shame at the thought, but in all honesty, she had been completely numb for a while now. Ever since they returned from Los Angeles, a little more than a day ago.

Spike had been the one to fight with Giles' family, for the right to bury him in American soil. Finally, after a call to the Council, plans had been made and the Brit was being put in a plot, right next to Jennifer Calendar. Even though the caskets were so close now, it wouldn't stay that way. This was just for the service. Then, Buffy and Dawn would be put near their mother and Xander in a Harris family tomb.

But for now, they were together in death, as they had been in life.

It broke Willow's heart, to see the blank faces of her best friend's parents. It seemed they couldn't even stay sober for their own son's funeral. Anger bubbled up inside of her, but she pushed it back down. This wasn't the time for it, if there ever was such a thing. She still had a tenuous hold on her magic and she couldn't afford to let it go. Not after what happened the last time she lost control.

The sight of Hank Summers was a surprise, but then he hadn't been told of Buffy's last death. Anya had been the one to speak with him, using her powers to get a hold of the slippery father. Unlike the Harris', Hank Summers was completely desolate. Though it wasn't the case for the others, in his mind he had lost his ex-wife and both his daughter's, at the same time. And it was obvious that it had broken the man.

To the right of the cemetery, Wesley, who had ended his conversation with Anya, kept an eye on his own father, who was standing beside Quentin Travers. They were the only two Watchers, beside Wes himself, who had made an appearance and it angered the younger man. He felt it showed disrespect to Rupert Giles and everything he had been, and no excuse of not being able to pull away from their work to travel all the way to the States, would appease him. He had no intention, either, of speaking to them.

On the other side of the four caskets, being studiously ignored by the humans not in the know, was a small handful of Demons. Those that had come to respect, not only Buffy, but the humans who fought so bravely by her side. Angel and Gunn had tried to make a big deal out of it, but Wesley and Spike had jumped in, with the former gently reminding them of Lorne and his presence in their lives. After all, he wasn't the only benign Demon in the world.

Clem was there, keeping his distance from his mourning friend. With him was Sophie, the co-worker from the Doublemeat Palace, who he had connected with after the disastrous birthday party, earlier this year. Willy stood with the Demons as well, showing his own support. Despite the years of threats and black eyes, he too had immense respect for the blonde spitfire of a Slayer, who he had almost come to think of as a friend. The rest of the inhuman crowd consisted of various enemies, that had no intention of causing trouble on this night.

The minister spoke with Hank Summers, at the head of the service and Anya felt a bit bereft. That man had no business doing anything, when he hadn't even shown his face in years. Steeling her face and nerves, she marched over to the two and took command of the conversation. Willow couldn't hear what was being said, but turned away when Hank showed signs of wincing, in the face of Anya's ire.

No one deserved to be on the wrong end of _that_.

"I think we're just about ready," Willow whispered to the Vampire beside her, whose only response was a hardening of his eyes, as he followed her to the other end of the area.

As everyone began to take their places on the small, white chairs, Anya and Spike stood just a few feet from the minister. When it looked as if Angel was planning on calling the other Vampire out, Fred shoved her elbow into his side and he clammed up. She had already had a long argument with him earlier, after Willow had warned her who the key speakers tonight would be. Gunn wasn't the only one she had a tight grip on.

Willow swallowed the bile threatening to rise in her throat and Wesley sensed her despair, laying a comforting hand on her thigh. He was the only one who had been told the truth of what had happened and had not put any blame on the young redhead, which she would never understand if she lived a thousand years. But he was here and would comfort her, while the only other two in the know, was busy with something else.

Something much more important than her own mental breakdown.

And then the minister began.

"It is with great sadness and sorrow, that we say goodbye on this night. It is not often that great tragedy befalls on such beautiful individuals, but unfortunately the world is not as perfect as we would like it to be. So, it is with tears in our hearts, that we say our last farewells to four brave and kind souls. Cut down in the prime of their lives, by a hand more vicious than we could ever comprehend,"

Willow was suddenly reminded of Prom night, their Senior year, as the minister kept glancing at the coffin that held her best friend. Did he know? Was he aware of who the tiny, blonde woman had been? Though it would explain him turning a blind eye to their demand of a night service and the Demons that stood to his right.

"A girl too young to have fully experienced life," he spoke, sad eyes falling on the first casket, that held the lifeless body of Dawn Summers. "A woman who was only just coming of age and finding her rightful place in this world," he continued, as he gestured to the white coffin where Buffy lay. "A man who had finally found his place in life and his reason for being," he said, coming on to the one that held Xander. "And, a man in the middle of his years, well-respected and kind, with much regard for the human life we so cherish," he finalized, as all gazes fell on the resting place of Giles.

Silence fell over the service then, as everyone took in the minister's words. A quiet rumbling could be heard, as the man stepped down off his raised stand and gestured for the first one of the mourners, to take his place. Wesley squeezed Willow's thigh one last time and then rose from his seat.

He cleared his throat, when he took his place on the stand. "I did not know Rupert Giles for very long. But it was long enough. Long enough to see the strength he carried deep inside of him, the utter devotion for the ones he cared for. Especially for those he considered to be the children he never had. Like the three that lie beside him today and the three who come to mourn with all of us," he began, gesturing first to the coffins and then to Willow, Anya and Spike.

The Vampire didn't have it in him to rectify Wesley's claim, but at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder if it was true. Perhaps he had been the son that Giles had never wanted, but was there nonetheless.

Meanwhile, Wesley continued, staring at Travers as he found his voice again. "I have seen far too much death in my short time on this earth, but none devastates me as much, as what caused these four to leave our world. In the years leading up to my first meeting with Rupert Giles, I had learned enough about him, to have an utmost respect and honor. That only grew, upon arriving here in Sunnydale and working side by side with him. He was never afraid to speak his mind or put one down when they had done wrong. But most importantly, he was never afraid to love. And he did so, with everything he was. He will be greatly missed," he finished, all the air and will leaving him at this moment.

He was just so damn tired.

Leaving the stand, he didn't even bother to see who had taken his place. Instead, he blindly made his way back to Willow, who had silent tears running down her cheeks and gave him a much-needed hug, when he heavily sat back down in his seat. Their hands found each other, as their eyes fell back on the stand, where the next mourner had taken his place.

Willow was just grateful that she hadn't allowed Tony Harris to take the stand.

"The first time I met Xander, I had just gotten the job on the construction site. He was leading the crew and I remember thinking that he didn't have it in him. He was so laid back, goofing around with the rest of us and I couldn't believe that he had risen in the ranks, in less than a year. But it didn't take me long to realize why," Richard had been Xander's closest friend, outside of the Scooby circle, even after the disastrous birthday party where he had gotten himself skewered.

"While he had a carefree nature about him, that I envied, he knew when to be serious. He was the best I've ever seen in this particular line of work and he always got the job done. Sometimes ahead of the schedule. I truly enjoyed working under him and going out for beers with him, at the end of a long day. I always sensed that he had this whole other life, that I never knew about, but it didn't matter. Because, when you were with him, _he_ was with _you_. His head was never anywhere else, but the topic at hand. And it made you feel like you mattered, not just as an employee, but as a friend. Any site I work on from now on, won't be the same. Because he won't be there, to make us laugh, to yell at us for doing something slow or wrong, or any other thing. There isn't a thing about Xander Harris, that I won't miss."

Willow had felt upset, though understanding the reasons, that she was being kept from this particular part of the service, sure that no one had known Xander as well as her. And then, to hear this man boil everything that made Xander, _Xander_, into one, little speech, was incredible. Because this was exactly what she had loved about him. That he was always there for you, putting aside everything else, just for her. Or in this case, for Richard.

A sob caught in her throat, as she watched the blonde man walking back to his seat. Their eyes met and he conveyed every condolence he wanted to, with that one glance. She gave him one, curt nod back and returned her gaze to the front. This one wouldn't be any easier than the others had been.

But then she didn't deserve that. This was just part one, of her endless punishment.

"I-I... oh god," his hands shook along with his voice, as he swallowed against the tears that wanted so desperately to fall. He had no idea how to even begin. From behind him, in a show of surprising comfort, Spike put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed just once, before letting go. But it did the trick. "I remember the day we brought Buffy home from the hospital," Hank spoke, on shaky tones, but it came out nonetheless.

"She was so tiny and I was so scared that I would hurt her. As the years went by, I changed my mind. She was _so strong_. Her spirit and how she bounced back from all kinds of tragedies, was incredible. Her fierce protective nature, when Dawn joined our family, warmed my heart. I had feared that their gaping age difference would be too big, but I shouldn't have. Those two were always there for each other, especially when things started to fall apart, between me and their mother. Even then, they showed their inner strength,"

And he seemed to have found his, for the moment.

"I am ashamed to admit that I haven't been much of a father, for years. A small part of me feels undeserving of standing here now. I allowed my ridiculous mid-life crisis to get the best of me and forgot about my daughters in the process. I haven't spoken to either of my little girls in a good three years. This will be my punishment, then. To know that I let them down and will never have a chan-chance... to make it ri-right," he faltered, then, if but for a moment.

"It makes it easier, though, to know how greatly loved my daughters were. The two who stand behind me and one more in the crowd... I've no doubt that they helped make Dawn and Buffy's life, just a bit easier. They were there when Joyce passed away, helping Buffy with everyday chores and in taking care of Dawn. I'm grateful that Social Services didn't separate my girls. It seems they were better off together. I will forever be thankful to these three people, along with the two that we unfortunately bury beside my daughters tonight. Thankful that they helped make their lives better, before they ended much too soon,"

"This is not a loss that I will ever be able to move pass, nor will I ever let go of my guilt. But I will try my best to live up to the image that my daughters held me in. The loving and devoted father. With one life gone, another is borne. I don't remember who said it, but I feel its truth. My wife, my new and beautiful wife, is at this moment carrying my first son. I will never allow myself to forget my daughters, but instead I will let their memory live on in my son. I will teach him all about his brave, older sisters, who would've loved him so much. And in that way, even just a little, they will live on. Just as they will in the hearts of those who loved them."

Completely shattered from the weight of his grief, Hank deflated with his last words and Spike helped him down the raised stand, where a heavily pregnant woman took his arm and led him back to his seat. The night was far from over, though, as a young woman stepped out of the shadows, making her presence known for the first time.

Willow barely contained her gasp, but one glance into her dark and wet eyes, gave the redhead pause. She spoke to Spike and Anya with her eyes and they stepped back, letting her be. Praying that Angel would give her the same grace, she leaned back into Wesley's arms and waited, expectantly, for what was coming.

The woman on the stand took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly, before speaking. "When I first came to Sunnydale... there was a bit of rivalry between me and B. I guess she was worried that I would take her friends away, cuz I got on so well with them. I'd always been a bit of a rebel, though, so it didn't take me long to push them away. Except B. For some reason, she refused to give up on me. With every mistake I made, she would still look at me with compassion. I wanted to wipe it off her face. I didn't think I deserved it and wanted her to hate me, like I thought she should. I figured, I push enough and some day, even she will crack. I was right,"

For a woman who never wanted to show weakness, it was an incredible feat that she allowed one, lone tear to slide down her right cheek. "I've done a lot of bad in my life. To those of you that don't know me, I've been allowed a pass for this night. See, I'm currently under lock and key. Got twenty-to-life for murder." She ignored the shocked gasps, as people finally noticed the two armed men in the distance, keeping an eye on the brunette. "Buffy was with me that night, when I got my first taste of the kill." Her eyes were far away from the cemetery, as she thought of a dark alley, fighting off a cadre of Vampires.

"It was an accident and she kept reminding me of that. But, I was too far gone. I had expected something like this my whole life, y'know? I never realized that when the day came, someone would actually be on my side. She even went as far as to help me cover it up. And, as the months went by and I kept doing worse things, to get her to hate me, still she didn't. I never got that. At least, not until I turned myself in."

"See, it's all about redemption. We all have something in our past, that we have to redeem ourselves for. Whether it's something as big as murder, or as small as stealing a pack of gum or banging your best friend's wife. B gave me all of these chances, not because I deserved them, but because I needed them. And that's who she was, to me at least. I've hurt a lot of people in my life, but none as much as Buffy. And now, I'll never get a chance to apologize, as empty as it would probably be, in light of all I've done."

"It's important that you know, though. Not Will or Angel or these two behind me, cuz they already know. I'm talking to those that never knew her before tonight and those that have known her, her whole life," she glanced at Hank. "When we say that B was strong, we don't mean in the same way as you probably do. We don't even mean in the strictest, physical sense. Buffy had a strength that none of you could even begin to comprehend. Not just because of the things she did or said, but because of the utter forgiveness she was capable of giving,"

"Every single person who knew her, has at one point betrayed her trust," she glanced at the people in question, getting their silent permission. This was not a time to be gentle. "Mr. Summers admitted it himself, so we'll skip over that. 'Sides, I don't know him. We'll start with me. I've no problem admitting that I tried to kill Buffy, a lot more than just once. Granted they were mostly half-hearted attempts, but they were still attempts. I slept with one of her boyfriends and tried to seduce another. I held her mother hostage, until she came to me."

There were no words to put on the shock of the people gathered. Many wanted to speak out against her, but one heated glance from a surprising source, forced them to keep it to themselves. Hank wanted to hear what this woman had to say. Because to him, it sounded like the girl was going to make Buffy look good. And he had no problem with that.

"Angel," she said, lifting her arm and pointing to the bulk of a man, who was trying to hide within himself. "He's the boyfriend I tried to seduce, by the by. Anyway, he did his own share of betrayal, though never as vicious as me. Although, in retrospect, maybe he was worse. Because at least B didn't love me. He made her feel like less than what she was, when he dumped her and left town, all the while making her think that she was the reason he was leaving. And she never heard from him again. But I don't need to be told, that she forgave him. Probably didn't take her very long, either. Some might see that as naive, but it's not. It's a pure testament to her strength."

"Wesley," it was testament to his own strength, that he rose from his seat so everyone could see who she was referring to. "He used to be B's... well, I guess you could call it a guide, of sorts. He worked for an organization that helped girls like B and me. It's not important what that was, though. Anyway, Wes here made few friends, in his time in Sunnydale. After I poisoned Angel, he refused to help and got well on her bad side for it. Oh, get over it," she bit out, when her casual mention of poisoning another person caused an uproar. "I'm doing time already, so chill."

"Moving on, then. Willow," the redhead winced, even though Faith didn't know of the worst betrayal yet. Still, she rolled her shoulders and followed Wes' move, rising up so all could see her. "To those of you that don't know this, Will was Buffy's best friend. And another on a long list of betrayers. There is no _one_ act that I know of, but she often went behind B's back and decided that she knew what was best for Buffy. As if she had no real choice in her own life. Hidden behind well-meaning gestures, B began to feel inadequate. And even this, was forgiven,"

Faith sighed, looking down for a moment. "I won't take up any more of your time. I could keep listing names all night, but it wouldn't get us anywhere. The truth is, that if you didn't know Buffy, you'll never understand the extent of her warmth and forgiveness. She surrounded herself with people who, although loving her very deeply, are also only human and prone to mistakes. She was aware of this, though and maybe that's _why_ she could so easily forgive. B wasn't perfect, by any means. But honestly? She was as close as it gets."

With those words, Faith faded back into the shadows, leaving the rest of the assembled crowd to consider all they had learned. Wesley wasn't the only Watcher present, who was shocked to the core and silently, Travers was considering a call to the government, to see about getting Faith released. Especially in light of her being the last Slayer the world had left.

Silence continued to reign for several minutes more, when the minister was forced to take the stand once more and ask for the next one in line, to come speak of the deceased of their choice. A heavy blanket of grief took place of the previous shock and the crowd was back to their devastating emotions, from before Faith crashed the party.

The night was closing in, but there was still two more to go. And Willow steeled herself for it, knowing they would also be the worst.

"I came to Sunnydale close to four years ago. Half-way through Senior year. I didn't really have much to do with the close-knit group that Buffy and Xander was a part of, at first. That wouldn't last long, though. I've always been told that I'm extremely blunt and say whatever's on my mind. I don't see how that's a bad thing. So, when Prom rolled around, I went and found Xander. I almost threatened him into asking me," she let out a small laugh, joined by most of the crowd.

"I ended up leaving town, thinking I'd never return. But I couldn't stop thinking about that goofy, ridiculous boy, who made my heart skip a beat and my palms sweaty. So I came back. And it was the best decision I've ever made. And I've lived a lot longer than you think. It didn't take long for Xander to become my whole world. It didn't even matter that Willow didn't like me, or that Buffy ignored my presence. I was barely tolerated, but Xander loved me and nothing else mattered."

"Almost a year into our relationship, around the time that we moved in together, Giles bought the magic shop in town. After a harrowing first day, I was given a job. Every time Giles went back to England, he left me in charge. He'd call and ask how everything was going and we'd end up talking for hours. Before I knew it, it was more than just Xander, tethering me to this town. I've never had many friends in my life. Even Xander doesn't count, because we were lovers, but never friends. Rupert was my first true companion, though. He never told me that I was out of line or that I shouldn't say such things. He just let me be me."

"This was also the year that brought understanding. Since I was now a lot closer with Xander, I spent more time around his friends and they became my friends, in a way. While I can never say that I've ever understood Buffy, I am proud to have known her. Because both Mr. Summers and Faith spoke the truth. Buffy was extremely strong, something I often found myself envying. Life dealt her so many bad hands and she never let it destroy her spirit. But there was someone I understood even less,"

"Dawn was a mystery to me. Xander was extremely close with her and I didn't get it. She had a crush on him, too, but I never felt threatened. Dawn was... I've never spent much time around teenagers, not counting the time I was one myself. She was... different, though. Suffice it to say, there is something about Summers women and strength. When Joyce died, I was prepared to watch as Dawn let herself die with her. And it was close. But she pulled through, with hardly any help, since her sister was mourning, as well. And this last year only brought more surprises. She proved to be as capable a young woman as Buffy was. And it's such an utter shame, that she'll never grow into the amazing person I know she would've been."

"To a lot of people, Sunnydale is a town of badness. A lot of strange things happen and many lose their lives. The symbol of this place, to me, is completely different, though. It's where I fell in love, for the first time. It's where I had my first foray into any business venture and found I was really good at it. It's where I witnessed the strength and beauty of the Summers women. And for that, I will be forever grateful. For everything they showed me. For all the love they granted me with. These four, that we say goodbye to this night, mean more to me than any words will ever be able to express. Not a day will go by, where I won't think of them. But in their honor, I won't let that stop me, from living the life that they will never again get a chance to. I will live on. For them."

Willow and Hank were no longer the only ones who were outright sobbing. Though Fred had never met any of these four people, she felt each word spoken from the blonde girl's mouth and cried for lost opportunities. She couldn't understand how Angel, who had professed to love Buffy so much, could continue to be so damn stoic. Even Charles had shed a tear or two, for the lost ones.

She also noticed the clenched fists of her boss, as the last mourner of the night took the stand. It was the bleach blonde man who had come to LA with Willow and Anya. She waited, with bated breath, instinct telling her that this would be no easier than the others had been. Though she wasn't sure why.

Spike steeled himself. He had never been one for crowds, especially since he was about to speak his most personal thoughts. Oh how he wished his Grandsire wasn't here. Not because he feared humiliation, but because he hated airing his every weakness to the man. Even Willy and the other Demons didn't give him pause. Only Peaches.

He bowed back his head and looked to the Heavens, hoping that his girls were looking down on him right now. Hoping they would lend him a little bit of their strength. He breathed deeply, refusing to gaze at Angel, instead keeping his eyes on the trees behind the crowd. He wasn't going to let himself fall apart. Not now.

Not here.

"'S hard to say what my place was, with these four. I've had so many different roles. First it was enemy. I tried, time and time again, to harm Buffy. And there was never anything but hatred 'tween me and Angel, her beau at the time. I kept coming back, hoping that I could get to her, finally. I think it was my fourth return, when I ended up staying. I went through a... life altering event, you could say. Ended up being taken in by Rupert. Lived in his place, for a bit. Learned a lot, in those months. I won't go on about strength, think you've heard enough of that for one night. Doesn't mean I don't have my own to share,"

"My second role became unwilling helper," he snorted out a laugh and was joined by Willow and Anya, the only two who understood the joke. "If they had a situation they needed help with, I'd get paid for my part in it. Every opportunity I could find, I'd do my best to annoy the hell out of Buffy. The others, too, but mostly her. Was my own fault that it took her so long to trust me. Suppose it might've helped if she knew what I did behind her back. Or maybe not. See, as much as I wanted to get on Buffy's bad side, I bloody adored her family,"

"Joyce was the first person to ever show me even the slightest kindness. Even under the circumstances, at the time. And Dawn... well, we'll get to that. On to my third role. I'd been helping out for close to a year and had at some point, stopped asking for payment. I've never told anyone this, 'cept the Bit, but I've no secrets anymore. Not tonight. I had a dream, a bloody vivid one, too. When I woke up, I knew. Usually, these things take time and I did try to fight it, for a while. But I knew, without a bleeding doubt. I was in love with Buffy, with everything I was,"

No one paid attention to Angel's reaction, not even his two friends who sat on each side of him. No one cared. Every one was now riveted to the young man, who was in such contrast to the bright girl they buried tonight. Hank, too, was unconsciously leaning forward, as this was a new development, in his eyes. Willow and Anya shared a secret, sad smile, the only two who had an idea of what was coming and how hard it would be for Spike.

"I kept it to m'self, knew she'd never accept or 'preciate it. Even after Captain Cardboard skipped town on her. But, this was also round the time I got closer with the Bit. She'd come by my crypt... uh, crib, after school and jus' talk to me. Was my first real friend, she was. She was also a kid, though, and ended up blurting my feelings to her sis. Buffy told me to stay away from her, didn't 'preciate my feelings. Didn't think they were real, though I'd never given her much reason to either. Hadn't always been a good boy, y'know," he said, a shadow of his old smirk plastered on his face.

Once again, only Anya and Willow got it. But still, even they were hearing things for the first time.

"I was on the outside, then. Had always been, yeah, but felt it even more. Didn't think I'd ever be let in. But things were 'appening, badness. First with Joyce's death, which bloody near destroyed me. Then, there was someone after Buffy, wanted to hurt her and her family. Or what was left of it. She was forced to protect her sis constantly, never getting a moments rest. So, she came to me, wanted me to help, said I was the only one strong enough. Said she trusted me to look out for the Bit. Was right, course. Would've died in Dawn's place, had the choice been there,"

Every person present felt the truth of his words. Even Angel, deny it as he tried, though.

"Never thought I'd see Buffy look at me with anything resembling kindness. And then she did. Wasn't much, but... t'was enough. This past year... so much 'appened. Changed. The dynamic of the group, for one. I felt it, even as an outsider. The Bit grew up. Anya was right, she would've been an incredible woman, had she been given the chance. Buffy closed herself off to her friends, but finally let me in. I saw sides of her I never knew existed. Sides 'm sure no one else ever saw, neither. But it wasn't jus' my girls,"

"Harris and me were never close. Fact was, we bloody near despised each other. But he had his own mess to sort out last year and I felt it. He grew up, too. Understood each other on a bit deeper level than before. Was nice. He was the bravest man I've ever met, have no qualms admitting to that, not before and not now. Lay down his life, he would, for the right cause. Rupert was the same way, but much... fiercer. Stood up for what he believed in and I respected that, even when it didn't do me any good. Even when it meant he turned against me,"

"Every single one of you could take your place up here, make your speech, and it wouldn't much matter. S'not easy to find the right words..." he shook his head with a humorless laugh, "Their legacy lives on in the things they did. The people they saved. Cause that's what they did, every night. You might not wanna admit that this town is different, but you'll bloody well have to, tonight at least. These aren't just good souls we're burying here. These are Champions. Heroes, in their own right. And they bloody well deserve to be treated as such," his voice was hard, now.

"He's right," Edward Madison stood up, lending his support.

"We owe our lives to them," a woman said, who Willow recognized from her mother's book club.

"That's right," Spike said, getting the crowd's attention back on him again. "Each and every one of us, too. Even you, over there in the tent," he said, gesturing to the Demonic crowd, who had yet to be slayed. "So we honor them," his gaze was back on the humans, "and we do it in much the same way as Hank said. We do it by remembering who they were, what they stood for. Do it by telling their stories of bravery to others, to future generations," he sent a glance in Travers' direction. "We make them proud and make sure that their deaths were not in vain. We keep them alive, the only way we can. Through love."

Silence encompassed the entire crowd, as the Vampire walked away from the stand and went back to join Anya, standing by her side, as everyone took in his words. High in the skies above, a being of great value did what should have been impossible for a Higher Being. Cordelia Chase shed one, single tear, for the losses. But also one of hope, for the great love that had been left in their wake.

Surely nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

"Hi, it's Spike, right?" She asked, hesitantly, as she approached the bleach blonde man in black.

The funeral services were over and done, the caskets had been lowered into the ground and every single ceremonial ritual humans could think of, had been done. The graves had been covered in six feet of dirt and mud, as the onlookers cried for everything the world had lost.

It seemed as though the blanket that had always been placed over the town had been removed. Whether or not it would last, was anybody's guess. But for now, no one was denying the home they lived in. Several usually clueless people were in heated discussions about the Hellmouth and Travers was forced to answer questions about his no-longer secret society.

"Yeah, pet, tha's me." He offered her a gentle smile, remembering how highly his Bit had always spoken of her.

"I've heard a lot about you, y'know. Dawn talked about you all the time," Janice was a bit nervous, wringing her hands behind her back. Not out of fear, despite knowing his undead status. But out of grief and the knowledge that the man in front of her, was dealing with a million times more than she was. "She really loved you," she whispered.

Spike didn't know what to say. Of course, Dawn had spoken the words to him a few times in the past, but he could never be sure. Especially not after Buffy had begun her ritual of verbally tearing him down and reminding him of all his flaws. But to hear that she had said it to others as well... that meant the world.

"She always called you her best friend and you know what? I couldn't even be jealous. From what she said about you, anyone would be lucky to call you a friend. You were there for her through the stuff I can't even imagine, stuff I don't know anything about, since I've been in deep denial until tonight," she sent him a wry grin.

"Ta, luv, 'preciate it." Spike was sure he'd be blushing, if his nature didn't prevent it.

"Just speaking the truth," her smile grew and she gave him a small wave, when her mother called for her.

Willow had stood at the sidelines, watching the entire thing, a small smile on her face. When Janice left, she walked over to the silent Vampire and squeezed his hand in hers. He turned his head to hers and she saw the drying tears on his face. Knowing how much he needed it right now, she pulled him into a tight hug, clasping her hands together behind his back.

"She's right, y'know. Dawnie really loved you, looked up to you. Sure, her sister was the Slayer and all that, but you were her hero." She held him even tighter, when her words sent him even lower into grief.

But he needed to hear it.

The wake was being held outdoors, not far from the cemetery, in one of the larger parks. Tents had been set up, in the case of rain and everyone was huddled underneath, as the weather had not been disappointing in its downpour. Even the Demons were conversing with the humans, though it could be contributed to the fact that they were in the midst of two Master Vampires who were on the side of good, a Vengeance Demon and a powerful Witch.

Still, it counted as an effort.

For the first time that night, Spike was left on his own, as Willow and Anya were off speaking with Hank and his new wife. The Vampire didn't mind much, as it left him to watch instead. Watch how everyone came together, bonded in grief. Although he did wish it had been able to happen sooner, maybe certain things could've been prevented, then. So lost in thought was he, that he never saw the approach.

"You may have all of them fooled, but I know the real you, William," Angel sneered, from where he stood at Spike's back.

The blonde rolled his eyes in irritation and turned around. "No you don't, you ponce. You never knew me. Twenty years back when I was still a bleeding fledge doesn't count, Peaches. And you were too busy trying to end the bloody world when you peeked out yer ugly face a few years back." He ground out, sick of always having to prove himself.

But Angel wasn't listening. He stepped even closer, until he was in his face. "I know what would happen, if these people knew the truth. Bullet wound my ass. Either you did a great job in covering up or you hired someone to do your dirty work for you. I know you killed them, Spike, so don't even try to play dumb with me. Looks like you finally got your third Slayer, huh." He sneered out, unaware of the audience he now had.

"You bastard!" Anya cried out, having overheard the entire thing, from the other end of the park. "How dare you accuse him of something like that. Just because _you'd_ never be on our side, without that handy soul of yours. And you act all high and mighty, forgetting that it's not a gift, but a curse. Asshole," she berated him, her words pushing him slightly away from her friend, who had a look of pain on his face.

Realizing that he was, in fact, taking Angel's words to heart, Willow quickly adopted the same rage that Anya was feeling and marched over to the small gathering herself. Abandoning her conversation in the process, but it didn't matter, as every single person and Demon was now paying apt attention to the showdown between the two Master Vampires, the Demon and the Witch.

"I think you need to leave, Angel." Willow said, her calm voice at odds with the fire raging in her eyes.

"What are you talking about, Willow. I think you've got the wrong Vampire. He's a monster and he's only playing you, until he can figure out a way to take you out. This is what he's like, remember?" He said, not realizing that no one was on his side with this.

Her eyes steeled even further as she invaded his personal space. "I think you're the one who's got your Vampires mixed up. From what I can recall, Spike never had the patience to stick to a plan for a week, let alone the three years that he's been fighting on our side. And yet, I seem to remember Angelus having all the patience in the world, stretching his torture out for days on end. So, I'll repeat myself, just this once. Leave." She spat out, standing on Spike's left side, while Anya took his right.

Before he could open up his mouth to spew forth a retort, a hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Just listen to her, man. It's not worth getting your ass kicked. 'Sides, look around, dude. We're at a freaking funeral and this is not how you show respect to the deceased." Gunn said, his eyes showing shame for his boss and friend.

In the background Fred was fidgeting, also ashamed at what her friend had said. She hadn't met Spike more than a couple of times, but she was no fool. She saw the good in him and she didn't even know about the soul. Only Wesley, of the LA crowd, had been told that secret, as Spike correctly guessed that Angel wouldn't much care either way. He'd think it was a ploy or start talking about humans being evil, even with their soul intact.

No one wanted to prove him right, so they kept their mouths shut.

Angel kept sending scathing glares of death in Spike's direction, but with the obvious support of Anya and Willow, the blonde didn't much care. Angel's earlier words were all but forgotten, with the show of trust from the people who knew Buffy better than the cursed Vampire could've ever hoped to. In fact, Spike was beginning to think that even he knew the Slayer better than Angel.

Then again, that might not be a hard thing to accomplish, it appeared.

It was a sullen Vampire who finally left, with no little help from Fred and Gunn. The latter had even stretched forth an invitation for Wesley, offering the Brit a ride back to LA, but he declined. He wasn't sure what to make of himself right now, but something held him back from leaving Sunnydale, at least at the moment. Even if he wanted more than anything, to avoid his father.

The silence that had fallen over the collected crowd of mourners, in the wake of Angel's accusations, diminished with his departure, returning fully to the atmosphere of before, once the Vampire was completely out of sight. Spike was in awe, realizing that not a single person gathered here, including the two Watchers, had even the slightest belief that Angel's words were the truth.

Willow was just back to feeling guilty, though, knowing that if Angel's accusations had been directed at her, they wouldn't have been a lie. She felt a cold hand clamp around her heart, realizing that she didn't deserve to be here, mourning the very same people that she herself had murdered. It felt like she was betraying their memory, by allowing these people to give her pitiful glances. She didn't deserve pity.

She didn't deserve anything good.

"Lay off it, Red, now's not the time," was all Spike said, to pull her out of her hole.

He was right. This night wasn't about her, it was about her victims. And she should be here, if only to be faced with the consequences of her actions. She figured that it was a good enough punishment, for now, to be surrounded by grief that she had created. To know that this was her fault and that there was nothing she could do to dispel it.

Beside her, Anya rolled her eyes, feeling the emotions coming off the redhead. She was getting well and tired of this entire thing. So she had made a mistake. And sure, as mistakes go, this was a pretty big one, but why couldn't she just deal with it and move on. After all, her and Spike had killed a hell of a lot more people than Willow, even though they hadn't been good friends and loved ones. Still, it far outweighed the Witch's scale of eight people, two of which had deserved it.

Aware that this wasn't the time to pull her out completely, Spike and Anya left her to her grief, as they had their own to tend to. Anya wandered off into the direction of the Harris', upset that they would show their drunken faces here. She kept her angry words to a low volume, though, not wanting to cause a scene like the one from Angel. Thankfully, as most of the mourners agreed with her, everyone turned a blind eye and deaf ear, as she ripped the couple a new one.

Meanwhile, Spike was approached by a parent himself.

"I have to say, it's a pleasure to meet you. You gave a beautiful speech," Hank Summers said, stretching his hand out to Spike, as he walked up to him. Only a few seconds stalled the Vampire, before he grasped the hand in his own. "I may not have been there much, for my girls, but it was enough to know that Dawn cared for you. Your name came up a lot, in the few letters she sent," he said, shame turning his face a reddish color.

Spike decided not to call him out on it. He was here now and that was all that mattered.

"She was a good girl," was all he said, as the overly pregnant woman joined her new husband's side and introductions were made.

"I have to admit," Hank said, after the expected portion of small talk had been endured, "that I have another reason for approaching you. Something I spoke with Willow and Anya about earlier. It has to do with the house, on Revello Drive. I'd like to give it over to you, if you feel up for it. It still has some payments, after all."

Spike knew that Hank had gotten the estate in the will, for reasons that he wasn't sure of, since the man had never lived there. Perhaps it was done, because Buffy had expected Dawn to survive and wanted her sister to stay in the house she had grown up in. Pushing those thoughts away, he thought of the offer and tried very hard not to show his emotions. He was becoming a real nancy boy, he thought, knowing that the new soul had absolutely nothing to do with it.

"Tha's a mighty nice offer, mate. Think I'll take you up on that. Memories are gonna make it hard, but worth it. Could have the girls move in with me, if they want," he said, already thinking over the various future arrangements in his head.

"And it would give me a chance to come visit, especially if you keep the interior intact. It would be nice to be able to return to the place that my girls called home, once in a while." Hank admitted.

"You're welcome anytime, mate, no worries. Be sure to bring round your boy, once he's in the world. Would like to see the lad," he smiled, winking at the wife on Hank's arm.

"Sure thing, Spike. And thank you. You and your friends have made this day a bit easier to handle, than I would've expected. We'll be sure to keep in contact."

A half hour later, the night began to wind down. Those that had work or school the next day, took their leave, but not before giving their condolences to the trio. Although the Harris' steered around them, knowing it was the smart thing. Travers announced that he was staying in town, for a few extra days and then he actually shook Spike's hand, on his way out, followed by the elder Wyndam-Pryce, who studiously ignored his son, as Wes did the same.

When the clock struck midnight, only the creatures of the night and those that fought them, were left.

While Spike went over to speak with Willy and the collective crowd of creatures, Anya and Willow decided to discuss Wesley's situation with the Brit. In such a short amount of time, they had grown close with the man and neither of the girls wanted to see him go, at least not without some assurance that he would be okay on his own.

"What's gonna happen to you?" Willow asked, as the two girls sat down next to him, near the buffet table.

The man sighed. "I've no bloody clue, I must admit. Only reason I stuck around Los Angeles, was because it was all I knew. But, Angel and the others have that covered, don't they. I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit lost, at the moment."

Willow glanced at Anya, who stared back, and the two seemed to have a silent conversation going. Just as they had come to a decision, though, Spike beat them to it. Having no idea what they had talked about, he walked over from where he said his goodnights to the Demon crowd and unknowingly gave Wesley something to live for.

"So, Watcher. You staying round or what? Got plenty of room back at the house, wouldn't mind having a brain like you around. Whaddya say?" He raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

Anya and Willow shared a secret grin, as Spike continued to be out of the loop.

"Sure, Spike, why not. It's not as if I have more important matters to attend to. I'd love to join you. Maybe even on a more permanent basis, if that would be alright with you three,"

"I'd say the answer's a bit obvious," Spike chuckled, when the two girls threw their arms around a shocked Wesley. "Let's go, then. I've bloody well gotten my days all turned around, so I'm feeling knackered. S'wrong, I tell ya, a Vamp sleeping at night," he shook his head in mock-disgust, as the foursome made their way out of the park.

"I don't know, it could have its merits, especially if you keep surrounding yourself with the pulsers," Anya stated, as bluntly as always, yet with a teasing edge to her voice.

Despite the grief coursing through their veins, all four succumbed to subtle teasing and somewhat loud laughter, on the walk home. There would come days when getting out of bed would be close to impossible, but in the end, they would make it through. They would survive on to fight the good fight for a long time to come.

What else could they do?

* * *

**Authors Note: **That was that for now. Next up we will see how well the gang is dealing, after some time has passed and their grief is lessening. Thank you :)


	5. Depression

**Authors Note:** Btw, in my story the Council is not all bad. They are, as in the show, only human and prone to being a bit power-hungry. But they are by no means evil in any way or psychopaths/sociopathic. Just read for yourself :P

**Summary****: **Some time has passed, since the funeral, and everyone is trying to move on, as best they can. This is basically a look into their attempts at a somewhat normal life, after The Incident.

* * *

- Depression -

The moon hung high in the sky, full and very white. There was not but a shadow of a cloud, to take away the breathless beauty of the stars. No, something else was there to do it instead.

Spike knelt in front of the green earth, still mottled over with brown, as the grave had yet to fill in. The name hung limply in the air, afraid to be spoken, for fear that the spell would be broken. And that he would break with it. So, he kept silent, as he placed the fistful of daisies on the cold ground. As cold as his heart had felt for what felt like forever.

One month.

Tonight was exactly one month since they had buried his world. Everything that had meaning to him. His best friend and little sister, in every way but blood. And the keeper of his heart, even if she had never given him hers. So he walked through unlife, with nothing in his chest, not even the non-beating one he used to carry. All he felt was empty.

He let out a deep breath he didn't need to hold, before sitting cross-legged at the edge of the grave, just staring at the tombstone. His mind brought him back to a time when the words on such a slab of rock had been his own. William Pratt stared him in the face and more recent memory brought him to the last time his love's name had adorned one of these. Had it really only been a year, since she was returned to him?

Like he had done so many decades ago, she crawled forth from the earth to bring the light back in his dreary life. A light that, despite how hard she tried, Dawn simply couldn't emulate. And things had been good, at first. Looking back on it now, he knew that they had been building mutual trust, were becoming friends. Until the discovery of the chip's malfunction and knowing what her intimate touch felt like, ruined it.

If only he had stayed in the dark, where he belonged, she might still be here. Not that he was taking on the blame of what Willow had done, but he couldn't help but wonder. Maybe, if trust and friendship had still been there, he would've been at the house that morning. After all, the sun had never been much of an obstacle for him. He would've saved Tara, perhaps, kept Willow from going down that unforgivable path.

But all the what if's in the world, wouldn't bring them back.

Even Willow refused to resurrect anyone. She had well and truly learned her lesson.

But Spike wanted to be selfish. He wanted to get in the Witch's face and demand that she right her wrongs. That she do something to take back what she did, even if it means pulling both of his girls out of Heaven. Logically, he knew he'd never ask her for it, but damn if he wanted to be logical right now. All he wanted, was to look upon his golden Slayer once more, even if she spent that time berating him and calling him names. Just to see her again...

And his Bit. God, how he missed her. With the funeral over with, he had finally felt her absence, in every part of the day. Of course, it didn't help that he lived in her house, slept near her own bed. It was for his own peace of mind that Joyce's old room had become his. Willow had taken Dawn's and Anya was sleeping in Buffy's, while Wes had taken up root in the basement below. And he felt the loss through the bond of the home.

Every morning, as he sat on a stool in the kitchen, sipping on heated blood, he expected the heavy footsteps of his teenage best friend, to come barreling down the stairs. When he said something crude or cursed, he expected to see her rolling her eyes and sarcastically saying how evil he was. He could hardly stand to go to his crypt these days, images of the two of them, sitting on the sarcophagus, haunting his every thought. It was too much.

Somehow, though he didn't know why, living in their house, was easier than being in the crypt. Perhaps because he'd never lived here before and didn't have as many pleasant memories as he did in his old home. He just didn't know, but it didn't matter. It helped to soothe his fractured spirit, to walk through the living room and be bathed in countless photographs of the three women who had been his first true family, since he had killed his mother.

But the grief never lessened. And he didn't expect it to.

"'Lo, Buffy," he finally spoke, in a sigh. "Haven't been by much lately, I know. Things keep getting in the way, yeah? S'not like I can take a stroll while the sun's out." Another painful sigh. "You were right about me, I see that now. I was a bloody fool, thinking I could pull you into the dark with me. And look where that got us," he let out a humorless laugh. "Nothing but pain, s'what it brought. My own bloody fault, too. Should've known you were pure sunshine, nothing but light. I'm a right ponce, luv,"

"That's not why I'm here, though. Jus' getting a bit off topic, here." He ran a shaky hand through his hair, which he no longer bothered to gel back. "Don't know what it's like, where you are. Reckon I never will. So, jus' in case you're not looking down on us, thought I'd bring you up to speed. In case you're listening, not that you ever have in the past." This time his words were followed by a genuine chuckle, lost to the memories as he was.

"Things have been rough, but it's gettin' better. Bit by bit. Red's back in school, though she's avoiding any friends that isn't her house mates. I get that and I won't push. Yet. Her grades have fallen a bit, but not much. She'll get there, in time. She's still suffering from nightmares, bout what happened, but even they are gettin' better, too. The screams aren't as loud and they don't last as long, which is good. A few days ago, she even talked about you. Told me about the first time you two met. Don't think she's ready to talk about Harris jus' yet, though."

This time, his sigh seemed to come from the very depth of his soul. "Talkin' bout Harris, brings us to the Demon Girl. Anyanka's a right tough bird, luv, but even the strongest will eventually be broken, if you push hard enough. I know she struggles with his death and the fact that they never got a chance to mend fences. Still loves him, know she does. Also grieving for the Watcher, reckon they became friends, without any of us realizing it. Torn up, she is. Breaks my heart to see."

Another run through his hair and then his fingers began fidgeting with the grass below, as his eyes refused to look on the slab of stone. "Percy's still with us. Never thought I'd be grateful for that, but he's been a right help. Kept us grounded, I s'pose. Becoming a real friend, too. Not something I've ever had too many of, so I'm not fighting it. Even if he is a Watcher." He chuckled, but it died out in favor of another sigh. "The first few days after... the funeral, he took over patrol. Was right decent of him. And he's a good fighter, too, so I trust him to take care of himself."

He didn't bother telling her about his own progress, taking a page out of how she had been when she was alive and jumping to the conclusion that she wouldn't care. Instead, his pale hand slowly caressed the ground in front of him, as he closed his eyes and pictured her beautiful face in his mind. He inhaled deeply, his hand twitching with the need to reach for his cigarettes. That would have to wait. He wasn't quite done yet.

He stood up, wiping his hands on his pants, despite the knowledge that his kind didn't sweat. It was yet another of those human traits that had unwittingly carried over into his new existence. With one last, longing glance at the grave in front of him, he turned away and walked a few steps. But no more, before he stopped again.

For some reason, this was harder.

"'Lo, Bit." Even now, he felt how close to falling apart he was, despite keeping it together during the entire speech to Buffy. "Don't know why this is harder. Maybe cuz with you, I knew you'd always love me. First person to ever love me back, since my mum." He choked on his words and felt the tears pooling in his eyes. "Bloody miss you, pet. So much. Don't know how to be, without your guiding hand. Even if you did have bleeding horrible taste in music." His chuckle was bitter and caused a bile to rise in his throat. "God, luv, how could you do it. How could you leave me? We promised we'd always be there for each other and you leave me!"

Anger began to choke him and he knew it was a silly emotion, and that Dawn certainly wasn't to blame for being murdered, but God how he didn't want logic right now. He wanted to yell and scream out his pain. Wanted the whole world to witness what this loss was doing to him. To see how much it was killing him, more than any stake ever could. Even more than any degrading name falling from the Slayer's lips ever had in the past. No pain was greater, than that of a broken soul. And that's exactly what Spike would forever be.

Forced to be the monster who lived on, while the two brightest lights in the sky had been snuffed.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't force out the words that he came here to speak. Couldn't lie to his Nibblet, tell her how much better he was doing, because the truth was, that he was just as bad as he had been when he first found their bodies in Restfield. Oh, he put on a brave face, in front of the others, but his insides were twisting up in reality. Nothing would ever make him better. Nothing but them and that wouldn't be happening.

He was lost and had no idea how to claw himself back home.

Because his home was six feet under.

With lead in his feet, he drug himself back to that familiar house on Revello Drive. Midnight was approaching and yet the lights were still on inside. He wasn't surprised. Ever since the burden of saving the world on a nightly basis, had been passed on to the four of them, days had been turned around and the others now had a sleeping pattern similar to that of the Vampire in their midst.

Spike wasn't complaining. At least it meant that some part of him still felt normal. He would no longer fool himself into thinking that he could be worthy of the sun. He was a creature of the darkness and that would never change. Not even with the soul. In fact, the only thing the soul had done, was solidify that knowledge. The one that told him, with not a shadow of doubt, that he was wrong and evil and a monster. And how could he fight it.

How could he deny the words of a girl who was long gone.

In death, she would be proven right. After all, how can the world possibly be bright, when her very best friend was the one to destroy everything?

These destructive thoughts would be the death of him, and perhaps not even in the metaphorical sense. He shook his head with a deep sigh, steeled his rattled nerves, put on his usual mask and walked up the short path, to the front door. The small tendon in his right cheek was jumping, as he placed his hand on the knob. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, listening to the sounds coming from inside and then decided to take a chance.

"Hi, Spike, how was your walk?" Wesley asked, as he spotted his friend coming into the house.

Though it was never spoken of, all the inhabitants of Revello Drive 1630, knew exactly where the Vampire went, almost every night. But no one ever brought it up, out of fear that this peacefulness they had found, would be ruined.

"Fine," he practically snapped, followed by a sigh. "Sorry, mate. Think I'm gonna be in a mood for a while," he didn't wait for a reply, stepping through the back door in the kitchen, to stand on the porch, where he lit up a smoke.

One floor up, the redheaded woman was also feeling a bit down tonight. She knew the reasons why she hadn't been given Joyce's old room and why Spike hadn't been able to take Buffy's, but it made it so much harder for her. But then, what room in this house wouldn't do so? She had, after all, been the murderer for both prior inhabitants, not counting the older woman. There was nowhere for her to turn, that didn't chip away at her spirit, drenching her in grief and guilt.

She sat on the carpeted floor of her new room, two boxes of pictures in front of her. She knew that this was extremely self-punishing, but it had to be done. At least, that's what she kept telling herself. They had to clear out the basement to the best of their abilities, since Wesley was currently living among dust and an assembled mess. Joyce had obviously never gotten around to doing clean up and now it was up to them.

So here she sat, going through every photo throughout her two victims childhood and life. She found one that reminded her of the mind-trip she had done, when Glory had taken Dawn. One where a tiny Buffy, with blonde pigtails, held on to a tiny, newborn little sister. She quickly rifled through a handful with Joyce and Hank, from back when they were still very much in love and happy with their little family. And then, she came to a pile she had never seen before.

What looked to be a ten-year old Buffy, was sitting on the bench of a park, an ice cream cone in her hand. The liquid was dripping slowly down her tiny hand, in the obviously warm, Californian summer day. At her feet, sitting on the dry grass, playing with a few dollies, was a five-year-old Dawn. Her bright smile was missing several teeth and she had on a bright, green sun-dress, while her dark brown hair hung in ringlets down her face.

It was a beautiful sight.

Willow was tearing up, as she turned the photo over into a pile of things that wouldn't be packed away and then she picked up the next in line. It was difficult for her to see exactly where the girls were, since the redhead had never been outside of Sunnydale before and therefore didn't know what sights there were to see in the big city, two hours away. But it didn't really matter, as her wet, green eyes were focused on the girls, not the scenery.

They were a few years older in this one and Willow sensed that Buffy's transformation into a carbon copy of Cordelia, had already begun. She let out a small chuckle, at the sour look on the blonde, twelve-year-old's face. She seemed to want to be anywhere but where they were, which appeared to be a museum of some kind. At least, that's what the paintings in the background told her.

On the complete other end of the scale, Dawn had a bright smile on her face and knowing her, Willow knew it could be from two different reasons. It could be because she was in a museum, as Dawn had always loved such things almost as much as the redhead, or it could be satisfaction from her older sister's misery.

You could never really tell with the girl.

This photo joined the previous one in the pile and she once more picked up the next. Her self-destructive trip down someone elses memory lane, was cutting a brand new hole in her already Swiss cheese soul, but she persevered. No longer was it about punishment, as she genuinely enjoyed spending her time this way. Getting to know her two friends, just a little bit better, by finding out who they had been, before she met them.

In this one, Buffy had finally become a full-fledged teenager, and it showed. Her skirt was impossibly short, her hair impossibly blonde and her eyes impossibly bored. Apparently she had gotten too old, in her opinion, for family outings. In the background, Willow could see a large park and on the bench table nearest the photographer, Buffy sat, with Joyce and Dawn. The mother and her youngest daughter were enjoying a game of cards, sitting on either side of the table, while Buffy sat with her chin in her hand, seemingly drawing circles on the wooden top.

Willow stifled a desperate giggle, surprised by how quickly she had been overcome with this unfamiliar emotion. One that she hadn't truly re-captured since The Incident, despite how comfortable she was now feeling around Spike, Wesley and even, the most shocking of all, Anya. A woman she had despised before their lives were turned upside down and now the redhead counted the blunt Demoness as one of her closest friends. Right up there with Buffy, in fact.

Which brought her back to reality.

It continued on for hours, as the sky outside darkened, bit by bit, as Willow sat on the floor going over each picture in the two boxes. By the time Wes yelled up the stairs that dinner was on the table, she had one box that was returning to the basement and one that would all be framed and put up all over the house. She was sure it would look messy, as there were more than two-hundred in the box, but she didn't care and she knew that the others wouldn't either.

This was a part of the Summers past and that should be remembered, at all costs.

She yelled back to her friend and then placed the box for keeps on the bed, as she got up from her painfully cross-legged position. Before she could grab up the other box, though, to take with her downstairs, she noticed that a picture had fallen out at some point. It lay, white, plain side facing up, just at the edge of the bed, unseen if not for her need to cling to the sheets to pull her tired body up. And, when she turned it around, she knew that it had been dropped before her day started.

With a smile on her face, she placed it carefully in her pocket, before grabbing the second box and making her way downstairs, to the lovely aroma of a hot meal.

She couldn't wait to see the look on Spike's face.

* * *

She watched the clock on the opposite wall, mentally counting down the seconds until it reached her desired spot. She was tired, achy and hungry, and the promise of Wes' marvelous cooking wasn't quieting the belly monster any. A pout formed on her face at the thought and only became more pronounced, when she heard the footsteps behind her.

"You're not off yet, Ms. Jenkins. Now, you have customers to see to." A harsh voice spoke, and Anya gritted her teeth.

A Vengeance Demon for more than a thousand years and almost five years spent fighting on the side of the greatest Slayer in history, and all there was left of her was this? When she first took this job, she thought she'd love it. She had been wrong. Unfortunately, this wasn't the Magic Box and only now did she truly appreciate what it meant to have Giles as her boss, even on the days when he was actually around.

This irritating rodent was making her wish for her days of causing violence and torture.

Her Demonic side was screaming at her to be let out and she realized that this must be what Spike and Angel felt all the time, with the soul firmly in place. Though perhaps Angel more than Spike, as her bleach blonde friend had always been in such control, even before the spark that had been put in him.

They had finally gotten the back story to that, too.

It filled Anya with a strange sense of pride, to call him her friend.

However, there was no time for such thoughts, as she hurried over to one of the customers milling about, before her rat-faced new boss could rip her, yet another, new one. She rolled her eyes when no one was looking, knowing that she couldn't afford to lose this job. Sunnydale wasn't very big when it came to anything but evil and cemeteries, and the Summers home was still in debt from back when Joyce first died.

They needed all the monetary help they could get and no one wanted to ask Willow to drop out of college, since it was obviously one of the few things making her happy these days. Even Spike was working at one of the smaller dives in town, as muscle. She still smiled when she remembered the dubious look on the owner's face, when he saw tiny Spike. It was a human dive and so the Vampire had been forced to prove himself, _without_ showing off his game face.

And then there was Wes, who had been so good to them, _for them_, ever since he decided to stay. Or was talked into it. Whatever. He was the only one who didn't work, but the other three wouldn't have it any other way. As fierce as he had gotten, in his years in LA, he still had a soft, homey side. So, as soon as they had realized how shiny and clean the house looked when he stayed at home, they practically forced him to become domesticated. He cleaned, did the laundry, mowed the lawn and cooked, along with anything else that could be thought of.

Amazingly enough, he loved it.

Though that might have something to do with the fact that he was still patrolling every night, with Spike, while Anya went out with Willow.

Since the redhead was still staying away from magic, they paired them up smartly. One Demon with one human. It was a safe path that Giles had never considered and Spike was even training the two humans. Not that Wesley wasn't a formidable opponent, but in the month spent sparring with the Master Vampire, he'd already gotten a lot better. Convincing Anya that Angel had been as blind as Giles, not training his people for battle, but counting on himself to keep them alive.

Fools, the both of them.

After one month, it was easier for the Demoness to think ill of the dead, especially in light of the knowledge that she meant no harm with her thoughts. She could never _truly_ think bad of her old mentor, boss and friend. But then, none of them could.

Not even Spike.

Anya flipped over the closed sign with a smile and didn't bother saying goodbye to her boss, before leaving the slightly claustrophobic shop. It just didn't feel right. As she made her way down the streets and toward Revello Drive, she resolutely kept her head high and her eyes from darting to the left. Where the boarded up remnants of her old home away from home lay, still for sale.

Though she knew it was a useless hope, she wished that no one would ever buy the property. Or, if they did, turn it into something other than a magic shop. It was just too dangerous that way, she knew.

Walking through the front door of her home, she was still getting used to calling it that, things were never what you would call lively. Not like how it was, before the sisters passed away. Something was always going on, then, whether it was the whine of a teenage girl in a snit, or the elder girl complaining about the evil of the week or slime on her favorite shirt. It was certainly never boring, even now. But, just because it wasn't as vivacious as before, didn't mean it was bad. The emotion filling the air, when she sat down at the dinner table, was comfortable.

And it felt like home.

Everyone talked about their day, in a calm fashion. Willow babbled slightly, which was good to see, about her classes and the few students that she had let herself befriend, if only in a school way. Not the kind to see outside of campus. Wesley and Spike discussed the nest that was rumored to be in town, if they could trust anything Willy said. Which they probably could, as the Slayer's death had opened up a lot more avenues than ever before. But that was a topic for another day.

Anya complained some more about her job, gaining a giggle from redhead, that she tried to hide behind her hand. Unlike in the past, this was no longer done in disdain and Anya merely rolled her eyes in response and smiled in her friend's direction. The men helped themselves to a beer and everyone dug eagerly into the meal. Handing out enough compliments to the chef that, by the time the meal was done, he was an almost permanent red of embarrassment. Mingled with just a smidgen of hidden joy, that they all saw right through.

Times like these, it was easy for them to ignore what they were. To ignore what they would all be doing in a few hours. Ignore that there was so much death in their lives, they were practically coated in its darkness. And, for the few, peaceful moments that they _could_ ignore this, they grabbed onto it with all they had. Because these were times to be cherished, before something inevitably came along to ruin the illusion and bring back the cold hand of destruction.

So they laughed and joked and had a merry old time, until it was time to let reality back in.

Because they needed it, if they wanted to stay alive.

Spike could tell you that Slayer's weren't the only ones with a death wish, just waiting to strike.

And he'd be right.

Willow had offered to help Wes with the dishes and the two Demons stepped out onto the porch, for some quiet. Spike was sitting on the steps, a sad look on his face that told Anya he was reminiscing about something, while he puffed on a cigarette. The blonde lounged on a chair on the actual porch, a magazine in her lap that she had no intention of reading. That wasn't why she was out here.

So, she waited. But not for long.

"Red found something... interesting," he said, when his fag was almost completely done.

He could be so irritatingly patient when it came to everything but the fight and Buffy's attentions.

"Oh," was all she said, knowing just from his tone, that this wasn't easy for him.

"Yeah," his reply was, his eyes focused on something in his lap.

She knew better than to push him, so she just gazed out over the yard and waited. The silence between the two sentinel creatures was peaceful, in a way that it had never been before. Never _could've_ been, as with Anya's presence in the past, so followed that of her ex, who was just a bit too bigoted about Demons for her liking. So, only after The Incident, had she truly connected with the Master Vampire and him with her.

Which explained his willingness to open up to no one but her.

She let out a small gasp, when the picture reached her lap. Before she could catch the movement, he was back in his previous seat, lighting up another cigarette. But her eyes were captured on nothing but what was below. She had forgotten all about this day and all about this picture, which was ironic, since she was the one who had taken it.

It was rare for Buffy to let her guard down, especially around the Vampire. But something had changed, the night they'd all been trapped in her house, for her birthday party. Now that she peered at the photograph, the whole night seemed to return to the Demoness.

Richard was lying in a bedroom upstairs, after Tara had staunched his bleeding, though Anya didn't know if she'd used magic or regular medicine to do so. Xander was sitting with him, which might explain the picture in her lap. Might explain the unguarded look on the Slayer's face. Anya could just make out a part of Clem in the background, who was probably playing cards with Sophie, Buffy's old co-worker who had been at the funeral a month ago.

But that's not what captured her so.

There were three main objects in the picture, the ones you were supposed to instantly focus on, when gazing at it. And focus you did. They were sitting on the floor of the room, the table having been pushed aside for more space. A game that Anya didn't recognize lay on the carpet, though no one was looking at it. At the left of the photo, sat Dawn. Her long, brown hair was in two, messy braids, that Anya remembered Spike being the cause of. He'd explained his actions through boredom, but the Demoness had seen the look of adoration and joy in his eyes.

Dawn was grinning, unabashedly, toward the Vampire in the middle, who had a slightly bruised eye. Anya wondered if that had been from a patrol or from Buffy, now that she knew of their previous 'relationship'. She shook her head and turned back to the photo. While Dawn's attention was on Spike and the Vampire's was on his little Nibblet, Buffy's was matching her sister. Only, the look in her eyes was telling a different story.

Where Dawn's was adoring, bordering on hero-worship, Buffy's was speculative, with just a hint of warmth.

Anya knew why this photo had touched the Vampire so much. Because the look in the Slayer's eyes gave him hope. Hope, that maybe she had felt something for him, other than revulsion, or at the very least, friendship. She had a feeling that this picture was going to ease the pain, that he thought he could hide from her. Maybe from Wes and Willow, but never her. She recognized it all too well, to successfully ignore it. Both through her century as a Vengeance Demon, but also from her own heart-break.

Though at least, when she lost Xander, she had never doubted his love for her.

All Spike got, was hope.

But it was enough.

With one last look, into the green eyes of a woman who she would never again call a friend, she silently handed the photo back to its new owner. Anya knew that it would be the only one, that didn't make it into a frame. This one would forever have a place in the inner pocket of Spike's duster. So, when she turned to make her way back inside, for dessert, she whispered a spell so low, that even Spike didn't hear it.

And now, the picture would never fade.

* * *

Patrol had been a quiet affair, though that hardly came as a surprise to the foursome. After all, it was normal Hellmouth behavior for the summer period. Willow couldn't remember a season with less violence and death, since finding out the secret all those years ago.

So, with dissatisfied spirits, they made their way back to the house.

Willow and Anya turned in early, as they each had something to get up for in the morning, college and work respectively. Still reeling from the picture that the redhead had given him earlier, Spike ventured back out onto the porch, cigarette in hand, upset at not being able to take out his frustration on the Demonic population of the small town.

Left alone inside, with nothing but his thoughts and a tumbler of Scotch, was Wesley.

It was sometimes difficult for him to believe all the changes in his life, and in such a short time, too. It seemed like just yesterday, that he was ostracized from his so-called friends and left out in the cold. And yet, at other times, he could hardly remember what it was like, not to live with his new family.

They had a quiet life, not at all like the coming and goings of a detective agency, but he liked it that way. He would get up in the mornings, to make breakfast for the household, then see the girls off for the day, while Spike went back to sleep. The next few hours were spent on various work around the home, such as cleaning or doing the laundry or, if the weather wasn't too hot, mowing the lawn.

And then the night came, followed by the action. Full of patrols and swinging around his sword, or even the occasional research party, that due to his past as a Watcher, he was always in charge of. And again, he didn't much mind. Not when he felt at ease and complete, for the first time in his life.

He was even learning to cope without Fred and realizing that it had probably been more of a crush, than anything real.

All in all, things could be worse.

A few days ago, Wes had received a phone call from the Council back in London. Despite the somewhat civil conversation, with Travers at the funeral, it still came as a surprise. After making sure that it wouldn't be his father on the other end, he accepted the call and was soon speaking with the Head honcho himself. And Quentin had a lot to say. Apparently, the Council was undergoing a make-over.

They spoke for more than three hours, which actually ended in a genuine apology from Travers, about firing Wes just because his charge was out of control. It gave the young man a closure that he wasn't aware he needed. After that, he realized that Travers was curious about the world of benign Demons and Wesley wondered when the older man had come to the conclusion that there might be some truth to that particular thought.

It seemed that a lot of things had changed, recently.

By the time three hours had passed, Wes felt secure that the Head of Council would start to implement some very important changes and was pleased to have been a part of it. Just as he was about to say his goodbyes, knowing that Spike would be back soon and ready for patrol, Travers said the one word, that would stop Wesley in his tracks. One he felt stupid for not considering in the entire three hours.

Faith.

With Buffy gone and the line going through the brunette, the Council had been at a loss. Forced to wait around until Faith most likely died of natural causes, as it seemed unlikely for her to be taken down inside the prison that held her. It had been a frustrating situation for the Brits, made even more impossible by the news of the blonde Slayer's death. Until the young woman had stepped forward on the night of the funeral.

Hope had sprung in Quentin's heart, at the sight of her, and it had only grown more with her speech. What he now saw, when he looked at her, was not what it had once been. Where before it had been utter defiance, a disrespect for her Calling and the shocking ability to take life without remorse, Travers now saw the changes. He saw a young woman who was scared of what she was capable of, who wanted to be better than what she was.

Who wanted to live up to the image of the Slayer that came before her, the blonde she had once called a friend.

Wesley had been surprised, by how little he had been surprised, by what Travers was revealing. Thanks to the power of the Council, which only grew with each year, a deal had been made. With Faith's cooperation, of course. The dark Slayer, who had gotten twenty-five to life, was being pardoned. Her slate wiped clean from all of her past wrong doings. In some ways it seemed unfair, after all that she had done. But Wesley knew that it had to be done.

And who knew, maybe she would prove to deserve her second chance.

When Wesley had brought his news to the dinner table, he was not expecting the replies. Despite having owned the loudest voice against Faith in the past, Willow felt that it would be wrong for her to judge, after everything she had done a month ago. Anya didn't really care either way, except to say that it would be nice to have more help, thinking that Faith would be sent to them. And Spike... well, he hadn't really had _any_ response.

Wesley was sure that the news had reminded Spike of _why_ the world needed Faith to be released.

And that wasn't pleasant thoughts to entertain.

Just before Wes had hung up with Travers, the Head of Council had offered the young man his old job back. Wesley surprised himself by how quickly he turned it down. Only then did he realize just how happy he truly was, with his new, quiet life.

It was another thing that he had announced at dinner and was met with pleased grins, smirks and smiles, respectively. Before, the others hadn't been sure if Wesley's presence would be temporary or not, but now that confirmation had come, they went out to celebrate. The chosen spot was Spike's place of business. They had stayed out until just before dawn and it had only strengthened their still-growing friendship.

Now, here he sat, a glass of Scotch in one hand and an ancient tome in the other. Staying up long past midnight, waiting for a phone call from the mother country. Travers had made no promise to keep Wesley in the loop, other than their three-hour and twenty-minute talk two days ago, but Wes had heard something in the older man's voice. Something that had sounded a lot like what his own father had never given him.

Respect.

It seemed that the Head of Council was finally seeing Wesley's worth as a Watcher. It's only a bit ironic, that it didn't happen until after he'd been fired. And for incompetence, no less. But, although he had no need to go back to his old job, he was still interested in the future of the only Slayer at the moment. And not only to satisfy his own curiosity. No, he wanted to know what would happen to Faith, maybe even more than the actual Watchers back in England.

After all, Faith's descend into darkness could very well be traced back to his betrayal of her.

He had not been as good a Watcher, as the man he had now become.

Being fired really was a blessing in disguise, he realized.

Before he had a chance to put the glass to his lips and take another sip, the shrill ring of the phone rang out through the room. He tried to make it across the room as fast as possible, so as not to wake the slumbering girls on the top floor. Just as he grabbed the handle and put it to his ear, he saw the Vampire walking through the back door and into the living room, probably with the intent to hear both sides of the conversation.

Only one man called at this ungodly hour.

"Wesley speaking," he said, as he glanced at Spike, who had taken a seat by the fireplace. Wes himself was happy to have grabbed the cordless from the kitchen, as he retook his seat on the couch, amidst all of his books.

"Wesley, it's Travers. I hope I didn't wake anyone?" He spoke, sounding surprisingly contrite.

Maybe the young, former Watcher wasn't the only one to have come a long way, in the last few years.

Maybe being fired by the Slayer had changed things.

"No, no, it's fine. The girls are sleeping, but I'm still up," he left the Vampire unmentioned, still not sure how Travers felt about the recently souled sentient being.

"Very well, then. I just wanted to keep you up to date with things. After our talk a few nights ago, the others and myself have come to a decision, though not as unanimous as I would have liked," he sighed, and Wesley realized that he was dangerously beginning to like this new Travers. "Faith will be released from the state's custody within a week's time."

He paused and the other two Brits were sure it was for the sake of drama.

"At that point, she will be put into yours."

"Excuse me?" Wes spluttered, cursing his need for contacts as he felt deeply the want to clean his glasses.

"Well, not only yours, Wesley. Ms. Rosenberg and Ms. Jenkins... as well as the Vampire. Though I detest admitting it, it is quite impossible after having gone through Rupert's Slayer journals this past week. Even before the soul, I suppose William was somewhat of a trusted ally. I daresay that I'd rather entrust our only Slayer to his protection, then that sorry excuse of a cursed Vampire in Los Angeles,"

Wesley was utterly speechless and one glance at Spike didn't help matters. The bleach blonde was sitting completely still, his lips thinned and a tick in his jaw. Usually, the younger Brit would regard this as a sign of anger, but there was something different about it this time. He just couldn't put his finger on exactly what that was.

"Are you still there, Wesley? Honestly, it isn't all that shocking, young man. You've more than proven yourself, despite what we've led you to believe in the past. While it's true that we let you go after the disaster with Faith, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Lord knows you never would've turned into the kind of man the Council could be proud of, had you not done the impossible, and seen the world through uncovered glasses."

"You've been in the thick of it, Wesley," he continued, when the man in question still didn't reply. "Some days I do wish I could still be out there, in the field, as you are. There is no better experience than that, nothing books can teach you that the real world can't do much better. And now that you're away from the awful influence of that... Demon, all the better. Yes, despite what you might be thinking, I _have_ thought this through, Wesley. So have the entire Council. And we all believe, well, most of us, that Faith will be safest in _your_ hands."

The words 'and the Vampire's' went unsaid, but were there nonetheless.

"Yes, I suppose I see your point," he finally answered, though he wasn't sure how much he believed in his own words.

"Very good. I'll be sending you everything we have on Faith's time as an active Slayer, including the few notes you yourself made in your earlier stint on the Hellmouth. Along with access to all the books that were at Rupert's disposal. I also believe that you have been given his private collection as well, by the women of the household? I'm sure those will come in handy, as it is one of the best collections any Watcher's ever had."

After a few moments of shocked silence, Wesley finally cleared his throat, and mind. "Thank you, sir,"

Long after the phone had been placed back in its cradle, there was not a single noise in the home, save for the feminine snores emanating from the second floor. Spike was back on the porch, puffing heavily on just one cigarette among many that night. Wesley was where he had been left more than an hour ago. Sitting on the couch, surrounded by tomes and a severely surprised look still on his face.

After all these years. After all of this disappointment, from both ends. He was being granted a second chance. They were giving him a Slayer. And not just any Slayer, but the very one that caused him to make such mistakes before. His past was littered with heavy grievances, but Faith was the largest, even surpassing the event that led to Connor's spiritual death. At least then, he had done it with the best of intentions. But Faith...

That had been about earning respect within the Council. It hadn't mattered to him what became of her. She had been nothing more than a pawn, he saw that now. Hell, he knew that back then, he just hadn't cared.

Not like he did now.

For the memory of Rupert, of Buffy, of Dawn, of Xander...

For the undeserving friendship of Spike, of Willow, of Anya...

This time, he would not fail.

* * *

The weather was chilly, for a Californian night. Goosebumps rose on her skin, as her teeth clattered around in her mouth and she wrapped her arms tighter around her body. She didn't like feeling like this. Weak. Never had. Even if it was something as natural as the weather.

They were coming for her.

She paced the small expanse of her cell. Her home for the better part of more than two years. It felt as though she had only ever known this life, in captivity. With her childhood, trapped in a loveless family, with a mother who looked the other way, when her men came to the daughter's bedroom. With her teenage years, spent bouncing from one endlessly painful foster home to the next. Getting into trouble and hanging with the bad crowd, but still feeling so desolate, so alone. And things didn't improve, with her relocation to Sunnydale.

If anything, that had been when everything had fallen apart. But she was no fool, she knew better than to blame anyone but the face she saw in the mirror every day, though try to avoid it as she did. She had made the mistakes, she had turned to a man who could never truly love her the way she wanted him to. Had been so desperate to please him, that she had betrayed the only person who had ever seen something more in her, than she believed existed.

Buffy.

And now she was gone and Faith was still alone.

But tomorrow, they would come for her. And she would prove that she could change.

Despite what she herself had said on several occasions.

She had been sufficiently shocked, when upon her return from the funeral, Travers had shown up on the other side of the small glass. It had taken her a while to actually pick up the phone at her side and hear what he had to say.

At first there had been anger. If someone who was as pure and good as Buffy would turn her back on the Council, what in the hell made that man think that she was stupid enough to fall for his bullshit. But she still listened to him, allowed him to finish. And now, she was happy she did.

In her mind, in the scenario where she took them up on their offer, she had only one Watcher pictured. The only one who had shown to have enough stones to not bow at their feet, sans Giles, of course. But she never thought they'd go for it. As it was, she never even had a chance to breathe his name aloud, before Travers offered him up on a proverbial silver platter.

She would soon go back to being the Slayer, with Wesley Wyndam-Pryce at her side.

It was enough to drive a girl insane.

She couldn't help but think of her past, when presented with her future. She thought of her first meeting with Buffy and the Scoobies. How she had seemed cool and collected on the outside, but had been screaming on the inside. Watched as the other Slayer, the one that came before her, the one responsible for her having been Called at all... watched as she ate dinner with her mother, who loved her. Watched her laugh and dance with her friends, who wanted to be around her. Watched the dramatic show that was her and Angel. Despite the heartbreak, Faith remembered silently wishing she could one day deserve something that beautiful.

She always thought it was a ridiculous wish.

Until now.

Maybe, just maybe, if she played by the rules, didn't step over the lines of right and wrong, she could one day be the one thing she had never been. Happy.

Tomorrow. They would come for her and she would go without a fight.

And then the world would see a change.

Faith Lehane may have entered this prison as a woman scorned, angry at the world for turning her into a cold-hearted killer. But she knew better now. She was a woman who had made mistakes, who had slipped off the path, but she was not a bad person. Not evil, as she had screamed at Angel.

She would never be like Buffy. She would never be pure. But that was okay. She didn't _want_ to be perfect. She just wanted to be happy.

And with the chance being laid out before her, what could she do but take it? Selfish as it may be, she was sick of being...

She was just sick.

One more night. Then the sun would rise over the blue sky and they would come.

And she would finally be free.

For the first time since birth, Faith Lehane would find her happiness.

...and damn anyone who got in her way.

* * *

**Authors Note:** I am aware that Wesley jumps from not wanting to be a Watcher again, to accepting Faith as his new Slayer. If you think about it, though, Travers never offered him his job back. What he did was give him a chance to make his past mistakes up to Faith, in a purely innocent role. He won't officially be her Watcher, she won't have one. Though whether he'll still get paid, I have no idea.

Remember to review :)


	6. Acceptance

**Authors Note: **This is the last chapter, before we get to the good stuff :) It took me a bit longer than usual to write, as I hadn't planned out the end beforehand. So I hope I do the rest of the story justice, though tell me if I don't, please. xD

**Summary:** A lot longer than just a month has passed now and we truly get to see how everyone is dealing, since The Incident. Some closure is made and changes come, in a very surprising form. Some reference to the **Prologue**, just in case it's been a while since you've read it.

* * *

**- Acceptance -**

"Bloody ponce bit me!"

Spike was irritated and Anya wasn't making it any easier, as he watched her try to hide a giggle behind her perfectly manicured nails. It was typical, he thought. Only Anyanka could still look the image of a well-paid model, even after days spent sleeping in a sewer and running from those they had once called friends.

"Shh," came the surprisingly harsh voice from the tiny girl.

The Vampire shook his head with a sigh, but kept quiet nonetheless. It was not easy times to be around in, at the moment. Throughout his many decades as an evil Vampire, who was a master at pissing everyone off, especially the important members of society, he had often been chased down into the dank sewers, looking for escape. But this one definitely took the cake.

Forced to scavenge for food, just so Jasmine's sycophants wouldn't find them.

Among them, Willow, Wesley and Faith.

But he couldn't really blame them for their supposed betrayal. It was well below their control. After all, he was the cause of the scar on Anya's arm, before she had rubbed some Seer's blood in his open wound. She had saved him. All they had to do now, was figure out how to save the rest of the city. Preferably before Jasmine went world-wide.

Piece of bloody cake.

Another hissed call for silence came from ahead and only then did he realize that his thoughts were marked by sounds. He didn't dare shoot this girl an irritated glance. Not that she scared him and, even if she did, certainly not any more than Anyanka. No, it was for reasons more serious than he wanted to admit. At least he had Anya to lean on.

Fred had lost everything. Everyone.

Charles Gunn had tried to kill her.

But she made it out. She found the cure and she cornered Anya, who then cornered him. But by then, their secret had been out and it had been impossible for them to take anyone else with them. Spike hated leaving anyone behind, especially those three who had become his family in the past year, but there was no other choice.

It wasn't like he was giving up, though.

They'd just had a bit of a... setback.

So now they traveled silently through the filthy, underground sewer system of Los Angeles, trying not to be discovered by Jasmine, her followers or the small contingency of humans that had a real problem with Vampires. Even after Spike had saved the life of the littlest one. Ungrateful sods, he sneered in his mind.

Not for the first time, and certainly not the last, he cursed his Grandsire to the deepest pits of Hell itself. It was so easy to blame the kid, who had just fallen in love, ignorant fool. Or the being that had taken over the cheerleader's body, who hadn't chosen the vessel itself. Spike knew better. Blame for all of this could be traced entirely back to Peaches. If the great ponce had never given in to temptation and slept with Darla, the kid wouldn't have been around to create Jasmine.

It may be his old hatred speaking, but Spike was sure that it was all Angel's fault.

Of course, it didn't hurt his ego any that Anya was in full agreement with him. Or that Fred refused to deny it, only look away meaningfully, whenever the topic was brought up.

Spike blamed Angel for a lot of things. Him becoming a monster. Him losing Dru's love, though he knew he'd never really had it to begin with. Him ending up as the Slayer's lap-dog. But this one was the worst. At least the other things only involved him. But now his family had been dragged into it, as well. And that was something he'd never forgive.

Angel would soon be dust, Spike would see to it himself.

Or so he was trying to convince himself.

They soon came upon a turn in the path and was followed by three heavy sighs of relief. It was the juncture they had looked for. Before the group of humans had chased them off, they had spoken of strange noises coming from this particular part of the sewers and now they had nothing better to do than check it out. Even if they had their hands tied at the moment, when it came to saving their loved ones, they could at least rectify a small part of it, by killing a Demon and saving other lives in the process.

Something the Sunnydale survivors had gotten quite good at, in the last year. And Spike would never admit that Faith's presence had anything to do with it.

He was a man of pride, after all.

The cold, yet soft and comforting, hand slipped into his own, when they came to a hole in the wall. He didn't comment on the fact that Anya was shaking like a leaf. She had been like this for a week now, ever since their escape from the Hyperion. When she had discovered that magic had been done to her and she had momentarily lost her ability to teleport. She was stuck with him.

He squeezed her hand, but didn't let it go like he would have at another time. The twosome followed Fred through the massive hole in the metal wall and entered a large, almost empty room, that didn't have the same stink as the rest of the sewer. Having been accustomed to the smell after years of traveling during daytime on the Hellmouth, it was even more surprising to Spike, than it was to the girls.

Then another, much harsher, smell hit him.

"Bloody hell," he exclaimed, no longer caring about Fred's anger, "what the fuck is that?" He yelled, a bit more brutal with his words than was his usual language, these days.

"What?" Fred whispered, too confused to berate him for his loud tone. "I don't see anything, Spike. What is it?" She glanced around, her eyes flying from one corner of the room, to the next.

"I don't think he's talking about sight," Anya said, as the smell finally reached her sensitive Demonic nose, which was just a smidgen weaker than a Vampire's.

Fred's confusion was somewhat ended, when she watched the blonde girl clutch her nose, between two fingers. All of a sudden, the disgusted look on Spike's face made sense and if it hadn't been such a serious situation, Fred was sure it would have made her laugh so hard her belly ached.

She turned away, knowing that it was up to her to find the source of the smell, since the other two were far too overwhelmed to be of any help. Not as panicked now, her eyes were able to actually capture the surroundings. But she quickly wished that she was blind.

As soon as she turned her back on her companions she saw it.

And a violently loud scream rang out in the sewers.

* * *

It hadn't been on purpose.

Spike had promised Wesley that he would never again have to step foot in LA, if he didn't want to. It was Angel-soil, after all. But, when it came right down to it, it had been the former Watcher's own choice. He had done it to save his friend, one much better, much healthier, for him than Angel had ever been. One who had proven his worth a million times over. How could he not want to help him?

There had been shock all around, when the new principal of the Sunnydale High School turned out to be the scorned son of Spike's second Slayer kill. Robin Wood, son of Nikki Wood, raised by one of the finest Watchers to come out of the Academy. And without an emergency, in the form of an apocalypse, there was no way to make him see that it would be bad to take out the bleached Vampire.

Or to attempt to, at least.

The tables had turned, after the chip went wonky and Wesley had tracked down a doctor to remove it. Robin would be safe because of the soul. But everything changed, when the foolish man had tried to use Willow as collateral.

Then, all bets were off.

However, still unable to take a human life, especially someone who deserved his vengeance, Wesley knew that Spike would someday soon end up on the other end of Robin's stake. So, after they had rescued Willow, who had still not done magic since The Incident, they escaped to LA. A place that was supposed to be a sanctuary.

Yeah, right.

It had started off okay. Of course, the fivesome had heard of the blotted out sun and even the rumors of Angelus on the loose, but had known that the LA gang would deal with it. They wouldn't be interfering, just as they didn't want them breathing down their necks, sometime down the line. But they still had no idea the hell they would be arriving to.

Entering the hotel had been an ordeal in itself. In seconds, they all sensed the tensions in the room. There was a dead Demon lying on the floor, next to what appeared to be a sacred circle. Anya recognized it as one that helped open portals to other dimensions. It brought shivers down her spine, reminding her of the last time a portal had been anywhere near her or her loved ones. But the confusion didn't end there.

No one was home. It would be hours before they learned what had happened.

Spike was sure that, if not for the immediate possession of his mind, he'd be laughing at how much Angel had managed to screw everything up. Had he not been taken under by the so-called beauty of Jasmine's face, he'd point his finger in his Grandsire's direction and do an imitation of the dance that Dawn always did, when she won an argument over Buffy. But he _was_ stolen, his mind, his body, even his soul.

And apparently it was Angel's fault. He had raced to his son's side, just to be too late, as Cordelia gave birth to the end of the world. And when the gang finished with their explanations, there was no time for anything else, as Angel returned, Connor and Jasmine in tow.

And that had been that.

Wesley rubbed a hand over his forehead, trying to will away the pounding ache that had set in, the moment Spike had cut the mouth of the severed head open. Since he had seen Jasmine's true face. Seen it and wept. He was too strong to let her loss get to him, but that didn't make it any easier. He was still letting go of the peace she had brought to him, despite how false he now knew it to be.

And he wasn't the only one.

Gunn seemed to have let go of his anger at the English man, if his glances were anything to go by. There wasn't single hint of hatred in the brown eyes, whenever he looked Wes' way. Though it may have something to do with the heart-to-heart they had, while under Jasmine's influence. Gunn obviously remembered the Brit's confession that his feelings for Fred were well and truly gone.

Not that Wes cared. He'd be returning to Sunnydale, his _home_, any minute now.

"Next time you find yourselves in a pickle, how 'bout calling us up first, huh?" Faith said, in full Slayer mode, as she spoke with Angel. "I mean, you gotta be the dumbest ever. Calling up Angelus? Seriously?" She made a disgusted noise with her throat and turned away from the brooding Vampire.

She had come a long way in the past year of being free.

She had even found that happiness that she had wanted so badly. And it hadn't come at anyone's cost, but the Demons and Vampires of Sunnydale.

Like Wesley, Willow came walking down the stairs, a hand held to her forehead. Despite the year that had passed since The Incident, she still felt the guilt clawing at her and this wasn't making it any easier. She couldn't believe the way she had behaved with her closest friends, the way she allowed Jasmine's influence to crawl inside and dirty up her mind. She was utterly ashamed.

Sensing her descent into madness, Spike pulled her roughly aside, pushing her through the doorway to the garden in the back. He wouldn't let he do this to herself.

"Stop it, Red. There's no bleeding way that you can blame yourself for this." He said, in a tone that marked the finality of his words.

"But, the way I treated-"

"I said stop it. So, you threw a few hurtful words my way, along with the others. So bloody what? I ran Anyanka through with a sword! Granted, it was her arm, but still. Don't think you're the only one with blame. But guess what? We weren't in our right minds, weren't even in bloody control of our own bodies. Wanna blame someone, point that dainty finger of yours towards the poofter. Lord knows he has enough guilt on his brooding shoulders, that he won' even notice this being piled on top,"

He knew he had done his job, when a snicker passed unbidden by her lips.

"Thanks, Spike," she said, catching him up in a big hug, before he could weasel his way out.

"Yeh, no problem, Red. You've got a lot of well-deserved guilt, no need to add to it."

It was always unspoken between them, what she had done. But no one shied away from it. She knew what she had done and the past year had seen a lot of changes in her attitude. She stopped feeling sorry for herself and instead took on the part of a responsible adult. Before Wood had chased them from their home, she had even made that long walk down the stone path, to where her college diploma lay.

She was a graduate, at long last.

Now all she had to do was figure out where she wanted her life to go.

Not long after Faith was done berating the reckless, cursed Vampire, the Sunnydale group left. Despite having yet to figure out how to deal with Robin, they knew they couldn't stay in LA. Otherwise Spike would definitely end up staking his Grandsire and his friends were running out of reasons to stop him.

They all piled into the DeSoto, for once thankful that they couldn't see through the blackened windows, see the utter despair and destruction that Jasmine created, by betraying her very loyal followers. Each one seemed to crawl inside themselves, as the car made its way towards the city limits.

Somehow, they knew that things would never be the same again.

* * *

Night had fallen an hour ago, as Spike made his way to the appointed meeting spot. Now, while nervous wasn't an emotion he was awfully used to, unless it dealt with his Slayer, he had to admit to feeling it now. If only for the fact that he was about to enter a situation that he was completely unsure of.

He sat down at one of the outdoor tables of the Espresso Pump, tapping his fingers impatiently on the hard wood and barely touching the hot cup of coffee in front of him. His leg was bouncing under the table and he glanced around the center of the small town. Happy that he had sat down with his back turned to the old shop. After a year, it still hadn't been sold.

It seemed that the people of Sunnydale had learned their lessons, when it came to dangerous property.

About time.

"Mr. Spike?" A voice said, from just above the Vampire.

"'S jus' Spike, mate," he said, rising from his seat to shake the man's hand.

He knew he had to be respectful, for once. It wasn't everyday that the Chief of Police called you up and personally asked for a private meeting. Besides, he was far too curious to attempt to ruin anything. Yet.

Soul or not, he was still evil, dammit.

"Alright, Spike it is then," he replied with an easy-going smile and gestured for the Vampire to take a seat again. "Surely you can call me Brad, then. I'll get into why we're here, just let me go order some coffee, first."

Left with his thoughts, Spike wondered what this was about. He knew who Chief Penshaw was, of course. Whether you were a crook in this town, or one of the good guys, it was impossible not to have heard the man's reputation. Before he had arrived in town, the Sunnydale PD had been a gang of bumbling fools. Penshaw had changed all that, though.

For some reason, that he couldn't quite pinpoint, Spike was convinced that the officer knew more than most Sunnydalians. His suspicions were only hardened, by the meeting invitation. And the fact that Penshaw had been the one to suggest it happen after dark, an unusual time for business in the human world, just cinched it for him.

The man knew something.

Since Penshaw's arrival to town, a little more than two years ago, things had, as he mentioned, changed. The death count was still determined by the Slayer, no doubt, but when it came to the matters of the human world, more criminals were being arrested each day. And when one of the Scoobies names showed up on one too many reports, no one had been by to investigate it further.

So yeah, Spike had his suspicions. But for once, they weren't causing a frown on his face.

This may just be a good thing, he couldn't help but think.

A few minutes later, Brad Penshaw took the seat across from the pensive Vampire, coffee cup in hand. "Okay, I might as well get straight to it. First off, if you were wondering, we have a Robin Wood in our custody. Two of my officers found him last week, creeping about your house and when they questioned him, he got a bit... wild. We planned to just make him cool off over night, in one of our cells, until we realized the... connection."

Spike was happy he hadn't been drinking at that moment, because even without the liquid in his mouth, he still felt like he was about to choke in shock. Not only was Robin out of the way, at least for now, but Chief Penshaw had gone straight to business and instantly proven the Vampire's suspicions to be true.

The bleach blonde man finally recognized the expecting look on the other man's face and realized what he was supposed to say next. "Yeah, we had some trouble wit' him, few weeks back. Bloody forced to run off. We jus' came back from LA a few days ago," he hesitated, soul questioning whether Wood should get in trouble, when he had a right to seek revenge. Sod it. "He napped Red about a month ago. Took us a bleeding long time to find 'er, too. The man's not in his right mind, mate. Would appreciate not having to worry bout him harming one of my own," his eyes were suddenly hard and cold, thinking of the fear on Willow's face, when she had returned to them.

"You got it," Penshaw nodded, not surprised that the Principal was capable of it. Then again, after so many years in this particular business, it never really surprised him what some people were capable of. And not just bad, the man in front of him being a perfect example.

"Now, 'm guessing tha's not what you came 'ere to chat bout," Spike said, lifting one eyebrow as he stared at the Chief.

"That would be correct," he said, before sighing. "Honestly, this has been a long time coming. I don't know why I've waited so long," he looked up from his cup, hard eyes of brown staring straight into equally hard blue. "I was in college, over in Seattle. I must've been twenty or so, don't really remember. It was a confusing time, let me tell ya," he chuckled, but there was only a small amount of real humor in it.

He sighed again and then continued. "It was before I met my ex-wife, before I became a dad. I was walking home from a party one night, when I heard sounds of a struggle. I come from a long generation of cops and never doubted that that's what I wanted to be, too, so I knew I couldn't just walk away. I reached a side alley and watched a woman, crouched over a man. It didn't seem to fit, but I'd heard enough stories from my dad, to know that the man wasn't always the bad guy. So, naturally, I jumped to the most obvious conclusion. Spousal abuse. Until I saw her face," he grimaced and took a deep sip of his coffee.

In his mind, Spike nodded in understanding. He knew exactly where this was going now.

"I'd never seen anything like it, but I knew I couldn't let my fear stop me from saving someone. Just like my dad always taught me, and later, the academy. So I charged. I may have been raised to never hit a woman, but that doesn't count in the line of duty. And even though I was only a boy, it still mattered in that moment, especially to the guy on the ground who was literally shaking with fear. For a second there, I forgot about the face I had seen. Or maybe I just told myself that it was a birth defect," he chuckled, this time with real humor.

"That's why it surprised me, how strong she was. And she was so tiny, too. A little, lithe, blonde beauty. Well, when she wasn't wearing that face, that is. Anyway, by some utter miracle, I manage to throw her off me and, as dad always taught me, I didn't take my eyes off her, until I knew it was safe. Which is how I saw her turn to dust, right before my very eyes. She's landed on a crate of wooden boxes, for all my luck."

Spike couldn't help but smile at this. "So you've known for a while, then," he said, finally relaxing back in his seat, realizing that Penshaw wasn't here to threaten his existence.

"You can say that again," he responded, shaking his head with a small smile. "After that, I changed. I stopped partying as much and started researching. My dad was proud, said I was finally taking my future seriously. He would've changed his tune, if he knew exactly _what_ I was researching. Over the next many years, I learned a lot of things and when I graduated from the academy, I asked to be placed somewhere with a lot of _unusual_ activity. I've made it a career, outside of normal police work, to help out where I can."

"And this brought you here?" His eyebrow came back up, thinking that there was more to the story than just that. Besides, his name sounded familiar to the Vampire, something he wasn't willing to just let go.

"In a way," he said, his gaze back on the liquid in his hands. "When I found out that this was where my ex had moved, with my daughter, I checked it out. I found out about the Hellmouth and that this was the worst town with this kind of activity, in the entire country. So, I packed up, got the gig as Chief and moved out here. I had to look out for her, y'know," he smiled and finally looked back up again.

A light went off in Spike's head. "You're Janice's dad. The Bit's best friend," he said, a smile growing on his face, as he thought of the sweet, young girl from the funeral service.

Brad Penshaw smiled back. "Correct, although I believe _you_ were Dawn's best friend. It didn't take me long to see Ms. Summers' role in this town and I couldn't have been more grateful when her little sister befriended my daughter. I was sure it would make my Janice a lot safer than any other friend could've."

"You're prolly right," Spike stated, thinking about how it hadn't kept _his_ girls safe, though.

"So," he said, glad to have it off his chest as he leaned back in his seat, "now that's out there and we can move on. Of course, this means that if you ever need any help from me or my boys, all you gotta do is call. Now, my curiosity is just about killing me, so why don't you tell me about everything that went on this past year, in Los Angeles." His smile made his eyes crinkle and Spike was amazed by how this was going.

Things might just be better in Sunnydale, from now on.

* * *

"So, looks like I've finally figured out what I wanna do with my degree," Willow said, her tone innocent as the family sat around the dinner table. She had waited until there was a lull in the conversation, before making her shocking announcement.

"I'm not sure why that surprises me, Red," Faith remarked with a smile, "you always were so sure of what you wanted back in high school, but hell, you managed to shock me. Nice job. So, what is it?"

Less than a month since graduation and she was already contemplating job opportunities, Spike thought with a smile and a shake of his head. Faith was right, it shouldn't've been surprising. He supposed it might be because of all that had happened and the guilt flowing inside of her. It wasn't as often these days, that they got to see the confident woman she had become, after leaving high school behind.

"Well," she said, teasing them by dragging it out. "I talked to one of the old teachers from my teenage years, who's still working in the new school and he told me about their lack of a guidance counselor. It's not what I pictured becoming, but I like the thought of helping out those kids who're like me and my old fellow classmates. Plus, I can keep an eye on the Hellmouth, too. With Wood gone, getting the job shouldn't be a problem," she finished with a smile.

Penshaw had come through on his promise a few days ago. He called the house and spoke with Spike. After hanging up, the Vampire had a smile on his face. Apparently, the Chief had used intimidation and, while the son of a Slayer may not let himself fear Demons and such, a man who could lock him up for a long time was another story. So, he had left town, promising to never return.

Spike wasn't sure he'd seen the last of him, but while he stayed in Sunnydale he knew he wouldn't have to deal with it.

Not that he had any intention of leaving, anytime soon.

"Sounds great, Will," Anya smiled, happy for her friend. She herself had gotten away from that awful job a long time ago and was now working as an accountant at a small business in town. It was something just up her alley. "Do you have an appointment for a job interview, then?" She asked, popping a fork full of peas in her mouth.

The redhead turned the color of her hair. "Well, I sorta already talked to the Vice Principal and he sorta already offered me the job. I start on Monday," she said, playing with her food and looking away.

There was silence, as Wesley pushed his chair back and left the room. Too surprised by this, the others didn't speak a single word. A few minutes later, they heard a pop from the kitchen and the suspicious clink of glasses. And then the former Watcher returned, a big smile on his face and an open bottle of champagne in his hand.

"I think this calls for a celebration."

* * *

"Bloody hell!" He exclaimed, ducking just before the blade could carve through his pale neck. "Watch where you swing that thing, you ponce!" He screamed, a note of panic in his voice.

"Oh, ease up on the boy, Spikey, he's doing his best." Faith rolled her eyes, from her perch on a gravestone.

"Yeah, well I didn't tell 'im to nearly take my 'ead off, did I?" He shivered, shaking off the momentary brush with real death.

It wasn't something he would have bothered to get upset about in the past, but he had more people to worry about than just himself. Sure, he knew the others could handle themselves, hell one of them was a very accomplished Slayer, but that didn't extinguish his protective gene, that told him that they were his to keep safe. And he couldn't very well do that, if he was dust.

And he certainly wasn't going to let this poofter be the end of him.

"Sorry, Mr. Spike," the boy in question grimaced, upset at upsetting his teacher.

"Yeah, well, just bloody don't let it 'appen again, mate," he said harshly, before sighing and getting back into a defensive stance, letting his game face come on.

Faith watched as they went at it again and grinned. It had been Penshaw's idea, to train his younger officers against real Demons, just in case. They were leaving the Hellmouth essence of this town to the ones who knew most about it, but you never knew what you might encounter on a random patrol through the city. It was important to keep them all prepared. Spike had rolled his eyes at that, but agreed.

Faith knew that, though he'd never admit to it, Spike had a deep sense of respect for the Chief.

And admittedly, so did she.

Despite her past with cops.

The brunette had tagged along to watch, claiming to watch out for Demons, just in case Spike was too distracted to notice someone sneaking up on him and his current student. This week, it was some fresh-faced twenty-something guy from Connecticut. It didn't take longer than seven days, as he was just giving them the basics. Then, one weekend a month, he'd gather all the students in one, large training room and have a conference of sorts.

Wes joined him then, teaching them the non-battle things about the different species.

While Faith hadn't been terribly surprised by the somewhat obvious acceptance of all things supernatural coming from the police force in town, something else did have her mouth gaping open and eyes widened. Her and her friends could barely walk down the main street of Sunnydale, without the sight of appreciated glances from the inhabitants. It seemed that Spike's little speech from the funeral, more than a year ago, had finally sunk in.

The Sunnydale Syndrome had finally been well and truly removed.

People didn't live in the dark anymore.

She couldn't count the number of times she had come upon a potential victim in the last two months, only to find them holding the Vampire off with a cross, a vial of holy water or, for the really brave, a pointed stake. They had learned and were using it. She was in awe and knew that, wherever Buffy was, the blonde was too. But she was sure that she'd be proud too, knowing that something good had finally come from one of her deaths.

Faith raised her head to the heavens and sent it a smile and a wink. Even if she hadn't heard the story of why Buffy had been so depressed before her last and final death, she still wouldn't doubt where she was. In fact, she had been extremely surprised that Willow and the others had thought her in a Hell dimension. Then again, there isn't much people won't convince themselves, if it helps them.

And in this case, telling themselves that she was in Hell, made it easier for them to bring her back.

As wrong as that had been. And unnecessary, in the end, she thought sadly.

Faith had been given a second chance and it saddened her that Buffy wasn't around to see all the changes in her. Especially since she had been the one to believe in her the longest. She shook her head at these thought, emotional outbursts weren't really her thing after all, and turned her gaze back on the scene in front of her.

As she watched Spike throw the tiny man to the ground, as he stood growling above him, she laughed and left the thoughts of the past, to the past.

All they could now, was look forward.

* * *

"Ms. Rosenberg?"

Willow looked up from her case files with a smile, that brightened when she saw the unfamiliar face in the doorway. She'd worked here for almost three months now, but hadn't met all the students yet. Which was a good thing, she supposed, considering her title.

"Come in," she said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. "How may I help you, sweetie?"

The blonde sat down and, unlike all the ones before her, didn't fidget in her seat. She looked at Willow with strong eyes and a will that the redhead hadn't seen since Buffy. For the first time since The Incident, it only made her wistful, instead of crushing her with guilt and despair.

"I'm Cassie Newton and I know about what happened two years ago," she stated, quite bluntly and Willow didn't know what to say.

She knew better than to try to act stupid, though. She knew exactly what Cassie was referring to. Taking in a few calming breaths, she tried not to let her fear and pain show, as she returned the girl's hard stare.

"Can I ask how that is, Cassie?"

"Sure, but first I want you to know that I don't judge you, Ms. Rosenberg." And her eyes showed the truth of her words.

"Please, call me Willow, after all, you know so much about me," she smiled, not a single hint of sarcasm in her voice. This was the Hellmouth and stranger things had happened. "Now, what were you going to say?"

"I don't know why, Ms. Ros- Willow. It's always been like this. I just... _know_, when certain things are going to happen. I don't always get a clear picture, like when I was a kid and I knew that something bad would happen. But until I actually broke my leg, I hadn't known _what _that bad thing would be. Two years ago, though, I got the sense that something much worse than a broken leg was coming. And then I saw you and I saw your grief and your anger and... I saw that my meddling wasn't needed, so I stayed away."

"You did the right thing, Cassie. I wouldn't have wanted to involve you in that. You're young enough as it is, I couldn't imagine it when you were two years younger than you are now." She said, mentally filing this away for later. Seers wasn't something you came across often and certainly not those like Drusilla, who had been born with the gift.

"Thanks, Willow. Anyway, that's not why I'm here. I just wanted you to know what I know, before I told you the message."

Now she was intrigued. "Message?" She leaned over her desk, without realizing it, listening with rapt attention.

Cassie nodded. "Yes. Last night, when I was trying to fall asleep, I... saw something. It was different from how I usually see things, so I knew it was important. You'll have to be patient, though, cause it's a bit difficult for me to pass on."

"Take your time, sweetie," Willow smiled, her eyes glittering with curiosity.

"Thanks," she replied, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. She closed her eyes and pictured the vision in her mind. "There's a dark field. I can't see to the other end. I can smell sulfur, something's burning." Willow could see Cassie's eyes moving rapidly under her lids.

"What does that mean?" The redhead's brows furrowed.

Her eyes relaxed for a moment. "It's all relative, it's all metaphorical," her tone was inhuman suddenly, as she spoke.

Willow leaned back in her seat, captured even more now.

"I can feel something black and oily, slithering under my skin. But I feel detached from it all, like it's already happened," she opened her eyes, "I think this particular scene represents the past, what went down two years ago."

The counselor wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to that, so she ignored the shiver running down her spine and waited for Cassie to close her eyes and continue.

"Then, something changes. Like the flick of a light. The field is still there, but the burning smell is gone. And there's something else. It feels like... hope." A small smile suddenly played on her lips. "I hear footsteps in the distance. It feels like a good thing, like whoever's coming is supposed to be there. Perhaps a savior, of some sorts."

Her smile grew. "The footsteps are gone now, but I can sense that the people haven't left. They're hiding, waiting for something. Waiting for the change." Then she opened her eyes and looked at Willow. "I don't know what it is that is going to change, but it's coming. And it's coming soon."

* * *

They were all gathered together in the living room of Revello Drive. It's was five o'clock in the afternoon and Willow had only returned home a half hour ago, hurrying to tell the others of what Cassie had seen. Now, they were sitting around the table, scattered around couches and chairs, discussing what the vision might mean.

So far, they were drawing a blank on the last part.

"Okay," Faith said, leaning back in her chair, "so we agree that the first part is about the day the others died. The darkness represents Willow's descent into the black arts and the consequences of becoming power-hungry." Everyone nodded. "Cool. The second part, the air cleaning out and the feeling of hope..." she let it drift and waited for someone to take over.

Willow spoke up. "I can't be sure, of course, but I remember something... It was two days after... it happened. Anya came and found me in the motel room. She told me about the deal D'Hoffryn had made with her and, even though I haven't thought of it until now, I remember feeling hope. Like maybe things would be okay, with time."

Faith nodded. "Sounds like it might be what the girl meant. Then, there's the last part. We've got footsteps, people who are destined to be there, who are... what did she call it? Saviors? And then there's hiding, waiting and a change coming."

Wesley was busy scribbling on a piece of paper, getting everything down to take a look at later, if necessary. Spike was casually leaning against the fireplace, eyes on the window behind the couch. It wasn't that he wasn't interested, but he was just a bit shaken by Cassie's message and was showing it differently than the others in the house.

Anya and Willow were sitting on the couch, lounging easily, despite the seriousness of their discussion. And Faith was on the chair next to Wes, acting as the leader, for the moment at least. It had only taken Willow explaining the message once, for them all to sense how important this was. There was a reason that Cassie had come straight to the office, when she got to school that day. She had made it very clear that this was urgent.

Why, they didn't know.

"The last part is definitely the most difficult," Wesley replied, not looking up from his paper, while he chewed on the end of his pen.

Willow spoke up again. "It reminds me of the dreams Buffy used to have, the Slayer dreams," she said, glancing at Faith. "They were so cryptic that we didn't really know what they meant, until everything had already come to pass. Something tells me that this is the same. We won't know the meaning of the last part, until it's happened." She shrugged.

"Makes a strange kind of sense," Anya agreed, also remembering her past as a fighter for the Slayer.

"Does sound familiar, but still... pretty annoying," Faith smirked, rolling her eyes. She knew exactly how cryptic these dreams always were.

She was caught up remembering her time in a coma and the scenes she had witnessed where Buffy was hunting her. Even today, she wasn't sure what to make of them, but they had been important to her at the time. This was different. This _felt_ different. Like it mattered more than anything ever had before, in the past.

"I say we start with the middle part," Spike finally spoke up from where he was lounging.

"What do you mean?" Wes looked up from his paper and the others followed suit.

The Vampire pushed away from the fireplace and came to stand between Faith and Wesley's chairs. He was looking straight at Willow. "You mentioned feeling hope, when Anya told you bout the transformation. Why? We've never really felt the difference, so why did it mean something back then?"

Suddenly, Willow realized where he was coming from. She had never thought of it before. Things had been so hectic back then, with the guilt and finding Spike in the basement and then the trip to LA and the funeral. Before she knew it, she had forgotten it. Forgotten that Anya hadn't just become a Demon again, but had been elevated to something so much more.

She leaned back in her seat and thought back on that day. Tried to figure out exactly why she had felt such a strong sense of hope. She remembered feeling the despair lessening, with Anya's words, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why. Somehow, she had felt that this change in the blonde's powers would be beneficial to them in the future, but she couldn't fathom why.

And then she remembered.

Anya granted wishes.

"Oh, god," she said, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open. "I know what the last part means."

The others stared at her, as she jolted out of her seat and ran quickly up the stairs. No one followed, only sat there in heavy silence, all four wondering what had just happened. They could hear her above them, rummaging through her things, obviously looking for something. But none of them could figure out what.

"What just happened?" Anya asked, breaking the silence, as she raised a hand in the air.

"Beats me," Faith replied, while Spike simply shrugged his shoulders.

Wes was deep in thought, though.

He was thinking about the same things as Willow had, before she experienced her epiphany. He couldn't reach the same point as her, because he hadn't been around back then and because he hadn't known Anya back when she granted wishes. But he felt that maybe he had a very good idea what had come over the redhead.

He just wasn't sure what to make of it.

Upstairs, in the room farthest to the back, where the blonde Slayer used to live, Willow was messing up the normal order. She was looking for something. Something more important than anything else had ever been before, in the past.

She was looking for a book.

Back during her Senior year, when her and the gang had first met Anya, Giles had made the redhead do research. Wanted to be ready for when the former Demoness found a way to get her power center back. So she researched. And she learned. And she kept all the information filed away in her head, just in case.

Only now did it come in handy.

"Got ya," she cried in triumph, a huge smile on her face, before she raced back down the stairs.

She retook her seat without looking at anyone, her eyes riveted on the book in her lap. The others stared at her, then at each other and then back at her. She didn't seem to realize the spotlight she was in, as she busied herself with the words on the page. She was getting closer to the answer.

A smile began to grow on her face, the more she read. The others watched, captivated, as a light began to grow in her, that hadn't been there in years. Not since her Freshman year in college, Anya and Spike silently agreed. Faith recognized the look on her face as hope and it began to grow in her as well.

All four were completely caught up in Willow's emotions, even if they didn't know what was going on.

And then she turned to Anya, smile bigger than ever before and spoke.

"I wish, for us, to go back to when it all started."

All eyes were now on the Demoness, as her shock set in and tears filled up in her blue orbs. She stared, surprised yet joyful, at the redhead, as her eyes turned an iridescent gold color and her face began to shine.

And then, in a shaky voice, she replied. "Wish granted."

And everything went black.

* * *

**Authors Note:** And now things get interesting. Oh, btw, for those of you that can guess the exact episode, or even better, the exact moment, that they go back to, put it in a review and there'll be a pressie waiting for the winner(s). I wrote a story a few years ago, that unfortunately didn't go far (yet). Personally, I think it's the best thing I've ever written. It's twenty pages long and very different from anything else out there (I think). If you guess correctly, I'll send an e-mail with this chapter to you, as a reward. (IF that even interests you, that is) If not, your reward can be an outtake from the next chappie or knowledge of things to come in future chapters. Up to you.

And now it's that time of the week... Reviews!


	7. Awake

**Authors Note: **And now, we've come to it. The long awaited time travel portion of the story. Unfortunately, none of you guessed right and I can't help but worry if I was being too blank. Personally I thought that the words _when it all started_ made it pretty clear, but maybe that was just cause I already knew. Huh...

Anyway, this is terribly long and so will the next chapters be. While the other five took up the length of 12 pages on my word document, this takes up 35 :D

Good luck. (Translation at the end of the first part)

* * *

**- Awake -**

"...he έλαβε τα πάντα, ακόμη και το δώρο από..." the woman moaned, as her red hair fell around her face.

Her name was Katya and her boyfriend had abandoned her for another girl, an exotic foreigner from Spain. At the moment, she was busily pouring over her fifth cup of vodka, straight, as she moved further and further down on the bar counter. Unaware that anything had changed, she prattled on.

"...θα νομίζετε ότι αυτός θα εκτιμούσα όλα τα έχω κάνει..."

Remembering exactly where this was going, Anya rolled her eyes and zoned out, letting the woman talk on, while she tried to figure out what had happened. The last thing she could recall, was Willow running back downstairs, after some kind of epiphany and then...

She made a wish.

"_I wish, for us, to go back to when it all started."_

A strangely bright smile spread over the Demoness' face, as the opportunities of the granted wish revealed themselves to her. So much could be made better, so many lives saved. She didn't even have to wonder at when they had all been sent back, as she, even after more than a thousand years, could clearly remember all of her previous clients.

Katya was eleven minutes away from wishing that her ex-boyfriend would just go for a swim in the Λίμνη κους, at which point Anyanka would turn the cheating man into a Chizac, a water-dwelling Demon who couldn't survive on land and was forced to spend eternity under waters. Made worse, of course, by the fact that the Λίμνη κους was rumored to be the smelliest pit of filth in the entirety of Greece.

However, that was the past.

"Ω, μόλις βρείτε πάνω από τον εαυτό σας, Katya. Ίσως δεν θα έχουν έφυγε, αν σας δεν ήταν μια τέτοια μάταιη, εγωιστική σκύλα!" She snapped, throwing a bill down onto the bar, glaring at her companion and storming outside.

She had been away from the Vengeance business for so long, now, that she had forgotten how tiring it got, listening to the same sob story, over and over again. How she hadn't realized, a long time ago, that maybe the blame lay with the women, not the men, she didn't know. But it made her feel like a fool and all the more happy to be out of that particular business.

Closing her eyes, as she stood in front of the entrance to the bar, she felt deep inside, for her essence. With a smile, she finally came to the conclusion that she was still a free Demoness and that this time's D'Hoffryn would not come looking for her. Thanks to the ritual, he couldn't sense her anywhere and after a while, he'd simply give up and just accept that she had been killed.

With those reassurances in her mind, she made her way down the street.

She had a few things to take care of, before she made the journey to the Hellmouth.

As she walked down the cobblestone road of Santorini, she watched the people around her. It was all so normal and dull, that you could be anywhere in the world right now. This might as well be Sunnydale, for as ignorant as the inhabitants here were, to the world that lay below and above them. It made her smile.

Happy to be one of the few people in the know.

This particular island, not far from the mainland of Greece, was made up of a mountain of houses. The first time she came here, back in the seventies, she thought it was one of the most wondrous sights she'd ever seen. And now, at the end of this millennium, she realized that that observation hadn't been altered. Sunnydale might be home, but this...

This was pure beauty.

She adopted an amused mask, when she saw the various mules, being herded through the streets. Some were transporting people, mostly tourists, others were laden down with luggage or groceries. It was necessary here, especially if you lived at the top of the mountain. It would simply take too long and be too tiring, to walk the entire way, with whatever you were carrying.

Passing vendors on the streets, she slowed down her gait and let her eyes wander over all of the booths, lined up along the way. It was something she had once been used to, in the older days of her life, but had forgotten to miss after relocating to the States. Not until right now, did it occur to her how utterly modern the Americans were. They had no sense of tradition and were too caught up in the newest fad, to remember where they came from.

Countries like Greece had it the right way, she thought.

It was also why she loved her travels through Europe.

Such history.

She stopped at one of the older carts, where an elderly couple was selling jewelry. The husband was busy chatting up a young pair of tourists, probably newlyweds by the look of things, so she walked over to the wife. Her skin was gray and wrinkly, but her smile bright and open, matched with sparkling blue eyes. She wasn't even tall enough to reach Buffy's nose, but kindness poured out of her.

Anya instantly felt at ease and approached her with a returning smile.

"Γεια σας, έψαχνα για ορισμένες δώρα για τους φίλους. Μπορείτε να με βοηθήσετε?" She spoke, when she captured the woman's attention. Her eyes swept over the merchandise, as she wondered what her family would like.

"Φυσικά, καλώς. Να μου πείτε κάτι σχετικά με αυτούς," she agreed and Anya began to talk about her loved ones.

She told her of Willow's innocence and kindness, how she loved nature and had a deep sense of respect for the things created through time and patience. How she practically worshiped the Goddess Gaia, in all of her benevolence and how the redhead had been so patient and good with her, in the past few years. With the woman's help, who insisted she call her Rhea, the Demoness found a beautiful gold necklace, with a pendant in emerald, to match Willow's eyes and a golden four leaf clover.

Moving on to Faith, she spoke of her inner strength and the struggles the brunette had been through over the years. Of how she made it her mission to save the lives of complete strangers, and that, despite mistakes made in the past, she had grown to be such an amazing woman, who took the word patience to great levels. For her, Rhea found an ornate cross necklace, made up of the colors red and black, absolutely perfect for the dark haired Slayer.

"Έχετε τέτοια ισχυρή φίλους, αγαπητή μου. Είστε πολύ τυχεροί γυναίκα," Rhea replied, with a knowing smile, as she handed Anya the packaged jewelry.

The Demoness simply smiled in response, realizing that Rhea knew more than most of the people on this island. She spoke her thank you in the native tongue and then moved to leave, when the woman gestured for her to return. One sentence from the sweet owner had her perusing the many lines of stones. Because in all honesty, despite being in the past, Faith and Willow weren't her only female friends.

At least not if she had it her way.

So, she delved back into her descriptions, painting an elegant picture of the blonde Slayer. Explained that her inner strength far outweighed even Faith's and that she had an ability to love, like no other. That she cherished family and friendship, above all else and took her given destiny very seriously, while still enjoying her youth and freedom. Rhea commented on wanting to meet such an individual and then moved Anya over to the other side of the cart, where the Demoness gasped at having found the perfect gift.

It was so special that she knew it wouldn't be given until the Slayer's next birthday.

Without being told, and beginning to realize how much this woman must know, Anya just knew that it had previously belonged to a Slayer. It was a charm bracelet, at first glance, made of silver and specks of gold. It had only five charms, but could easily be added to, down the road. One was a crudely carved stake, which might be mistaken for a railroad spike, she thought with a smile. Another was a thick tome, with the tiny words 'Vampyr' carved on one side. Just one more proof for her suspicion.

Those two charms spelled Slayer, but the last three personalized it so much more. One was a gently and lovingly carved heart, that spoke of the love that Buffy was capable of. Then, there was an old-fashioned sun, the only charm on the bracelet that was gold, instead of silver, to give off the air of light and, of course, strength. The final part, of this utter wondrous piece of art, was a tree, filled with branches, representing the many members of a family.

It was so... Buffy.

"Θα λάβει το." Her smile shone brighter than the sun, as she waited for Rhea to pack up her final purchase.

She would have to return some day, with the blonde Slayer and get the story of the bracelet from the woman. Anya was convinced that Rhea knew more than she was letting on. Maybe she had some connection to the Council? Or perhaps her connection was even stronger and more difficult to figure out, than anyone would suspect.

With the knowledge that her friends would love their presents, because how couldn't they, Anya said a somewhat emotional farewell to the very helpful woman and made her way back down the cobblestone road. She had spent almost an hour at the cart and the sun was slowly making its descend into the ocean. Which meant that she had to get a move on.

Who knew what was going on in Sunnydale right now.

After all, Anya hadn't been around for this part.

Ten minutes later, and filled with pride at herself for still remembering, she made it to the doors of her hotel. Despite the ability to teleport in and out of Arashmahar without difficulty or waste of time, Anyanka had always felt it necessary to stick close to her potential client. It was why, upon arrival in Sunnydale, she had rented a tiny apartment. The same one she had, up until moving in with Xander.

The man at the desk greeted her and she nodded at him with a happy smile, as she moved towards the stairs at the other end. After so long in the world, and with no real reason to spend tons of money, Anya had accumulated quite a stash of cash. So, when she went to places such as these, she tried to live as much in the lap of luxury, as possible. The hotel in Santorini was no different.

She walked inside the first part of the room, a living room made up of soft, gold colors. It was decorated in the old-fashioned Greek style, the one that was inspired by stories of Gods and Heavenly dimensions. Of course, Anya knew that they were a lot more than just stories, but she couldn't exactly tell the inhabitants of the island that. She placed her recent purchases down on the beige chaiselong and moved further into the room, where the bed was.

Dashing quickly into the connecting bathroom, she grabbed a hair tie and piled her currently light brown locks into a high ponytail. And then she got to work.

Two hours later, she was packed and ready to go. She called down to the reception and let them know that she was checking out. Moving past their surprise, at a guest checking out at night, instead of the usual morning, they sent up an employee to handle everything and she was soon making her way back out the hotel.

The gifts for the girls had been delicately placed inside a protective bubble, made from what little magic Anya was capable of, and then packed along with the softness of her clothes. Not that she had a lot of it, since as she made clear before, Arashmahar was not terribly far away.

That would have to change now, though, since she had no more need for that pocket dimension.

With one bag strewn over her shoulder and another held in her hand, she walked down the dark road, peering at the moon that hung high in sky. She wondered, briefly, if Willow's wolf boyfriend was currently locked up or not, since she never found out exactly when he'd been bitten. Just that it was before she arrived in town.

A few minutes later she finally found an empty alleyway and walked inside. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and listened out for signs that she wasn't alone. When she had finally convinced herself of her solitude, she reached inside of herself and asked to be moved through space, to the place she most wanted to be. A rush of air covered her and then it became still again.

She opened her eyes to the summer night of Sunnydale, California.

* * *

"Well, I don't know what you want me to tell you, Krelk, but you and I _do_ know each other. It's not my fault that you haven't technically met me yet," she said, rolling her eyes at the angered look on the Crechian's face.

He wasn't pleased that this seemingly human creature had showed up at his home, in the middle of the night, demanding a place to stay for a few days. She didn't smell human, but that just made it worse, as it meant she was a half-breed. Not as bad as Vampires, but still not someone he wanted to be seen with. The others of his clan would never forgive him and then he'd truly _never_ find a suitable mate.

He was already outcast enough, as it was.

"That makes no sense," he sneered, praying she would leave soon.

It was almost time for him to leave for the Bracknan and if he was late, it would be his job to carve the Sys'ii. That was not an honorable position to be in and if that happened, he would be tracking down this troublesome female and making her pay. He would not let some little Demoness, hiding behind the mask of a human, make him a fool in front of his brethren.

"Sense, schmense, get over it. Come on, Krelk, it'll only be for two nights, I promise. And I won't even touch your collection of Kanives, I know how touchy you get." She pulled out the full arsenal and pushed her widened eyes and bosom in his face. No man had ever resisted either before.

But then, those had all been men who already knew her.

She stood in shock, that he had dared slam the door in her face. Then, her features turned sullen and her mouth became a frown, as she grabbed up her luggage again and moved back down the path to the small house. Krelk had been the only choice for her, since the only ones she knew in town, who actually remembered her, were currently either living at home or in a soot filled factory, to the best of Anya's recollection.

Of course, that depended entirely on what was going on in Sunnydale right now. For all she knew, Spike was in Brazil with Dru right now, or had never even stepped foot in town yet. After joining the Scoobies during their Freshman year, Anya had never paid much attention to their trips down memory lane and so she had no real way of figuring out what she would be arriving to.

Which was exactly why she wasn't knocking on any doors of humans or showing up in the high school library.

Knowing she was running out of options, she scowled in the direction of Krelk's home, furious at the idiot Demon. She couldn't believe she had called him a friend in the future. Well, she huffed haughtily, he'd just have to do without her now, then. She certainly wasn't going to be helping him with his psychotic mate, he would be on his own. No one turned away Anyanka, despite whatever reason they found would be sound. So what if he didn't know her, she knew him and that should be enough.

Stupid Crechian.

With a disappointed sniffle, she tried to fight off the chill in the air and moved down the street, not sure what she was looking for. She'd know when she found it.

She passed the school district, the main street that held the future Magic Box and the cinema where Xander had taken her on their third date. Then, her journey took her by Revello Drive, the compound that held Giles' apartment and the assortment of factories that was sure to hold a bleach blonde Vampire. If she had the timing right, that is.

As she walked, she decided to try to pinpoint when she was. She thought back on the exact words of wish making that Willow had spoken and began to pick them apart. Figure out why the redhead had been so exited when she spoke them, find out why she had chosen those words, instead of the many others in existence.

"_I wish, for us, to go back to when it all started,"_

To when it all started.

That could be anything, she thought with a frown. Willow hadn't exactly been very specific, but then Anya knew that it didn't matter. A Vengeance Demon only needed the two first words of any wish sentence and then they used their powers to reach inside the hearts of their clients, to better figure out how to grant it. But the Demons didn't necessarily know, immediately, what the outcome had been.

Only when it was obvious, which it obviously wasn't this time.

There were many moments Willow could've been talking about, although some were ruled out by the fact that Anya wasn't in town yet. So the years in college were out. At first, when the wish had been uttered out loud, the Demoness had been convinced that Willow had meant right before the deaths of all of their loved ones. Or maybe before Tara was shot. Perhaps even prior to the year where she had delved into the dark arts, after bringing Buffy back.

But why now, she had no clue.

She knew it wasn't the beginning. It wasn't back when _everything_ had started, when Willow had learned of this world and Buffy had just moved to town. She knew, because the blonde Slayer had a reputation and that took time to build up. So which start had the redhead been referring to?

"Ow," she muttered. She was getting a headache.

She's used to leaving the thinking up to the Watchers in her life, be it Rupert or Wesley respectively.

With a sigh, as she made it to the city limits and still no clue as to where she would go, she turned around and moved back. A half hour later found her having deposited her luggage at the bus depot, as she pushed open the door of the familiar establishment.

It had been a while.

Though, technically, she'd never been here before.

"Can I help you?" He said, probably expecting her to be human.

Tsk, tsk, he never learned.

"Hi, Willy, just the man I was looking for. I'd like a shot of tequila, a Heineken and some information," she said, striding over to the bar and taking a seat on a stool.

"Uh, sure," he replied, used to this part, where they turned out to be more than they appeared. Although, he couldn't help but wonder what species she was, considering how few Demons were this pretty.

While she waited for her drink orders, Anya turned around in her seat and made a quick perusal of the room. She knew why there wouldn't be any Crechian's out tonight, as they were all over at the park for the Bracknan, but the place was still pretty packed. Then again, it usually was, no matter the day of the week.

She spotted a few Vampires, not a hard thing to miss, as they were all fledglings and so not old enough to know how to lose the game face in public. At first glance, she thought that the other two human-looking creatures were Vampires, until she threw out her senses. One smelled of Bracken, a breed that often mixed up with humans, to better blend in with the crowd, as they were mostly benign. The other she was sure was Lister, also a half-breed, although this particular breed did not mate with humans quite as much as the Bracken.

A soft smile played on her lips, when she spotted Clem in the far corner of the dark bar. He seemed to be having a heated conversation with Drak, the only Sunnydale resident who was from the same clan as the loose-skinned Demon she had called a friend. She suspected that their argument involved some TV show that they couldn't agree on. Clem and Drak were cousins, but had grown up together, after their mothers were slaughtered by the Slayer at the time.

Which was exactly why Clem had taken a while to warm up to Buffy.

A few booths over from the benign Demons, sat the ones that the Slayer was very much allowed to take out, regardless of what they might be doing when she saw them. The leader, of sorts, was Manny, a ridiculous name for an evil Demon, but then his parents had tried to eat him, so maybe they decided to give it to him through cruelty, instead of love. His kind was rarely the same color skin, which made them so much easier to tell apart. Manny was a translucent green, though not as attractive as he believed. His eyes were, however, a lovely lilac shade, though the coldness in them took some of the beauty away.

Manny's gang of misfits were made up of all different kinds of Demon clan members. They reminded Anya of the motorcycling Demons who had tried to take over the Hellmouth, on the night they brought Buffy back, although Manny and his friends were not quite as disgustingly evil as those had been. They were even too cowardly to go up against the Slayer. Basically, they spent their time terrorizing the Demon community in town and stealing from little old ladies.

But that didn't make them any less evil.

They had been one of the gangs to rough up Spike, after he had begun helping out the Slayer and killing his own kind. Although Manny had only given the go-ahead once the bleach blonde had enough alcohol in him, to not fight back properly. Obviously, if they were scared of the Slayer, then it wouldn't be difficult to surmise that they feared the Slayer of Slayers just as much.

Another few booths away, Anya was met with very familiar faces and it made her smile. She pondered whether or not she should go join them, once Willy had given her what she came here for. The man on one end of the booth was called Candor and descended from a long line of, strictly male, Persevich Demons. She had never been able to get him to admit to how his kind procreated, if no females existed. He'd just laugh the laugh of a jolly grandfather and then change the subject.

She was not surprised by his companions. Ten years before he moved to the Hellmouth, Candor had been living in the New York underground and had accidentally stumbled across a nest of Vampires. These particular bloodsuckers were crueler than usual, as they had decided to target other Demons, when they weren't feeding on the human populace. Their targets, back then, had been the two females that sat across from Candor in the booth, sipping on a martini and coke and rum, respectively.

Mira was from one of the lovelier species. She was a Jer, a royal family from one of the neighboring dimensions. After war had broken out in her home land, some of the most targeted Jer's, such as the royalty, had escaped into other worlds. Mira was the only one of her kind, who had ended up here and she actually saw that as a good thing. Her friend, Liseri, had protected her from the evils of this world, when she had first arrived. Liseri had also showed Mira the ropes and taught her everything necessary to survive. The blonde humanoid Demon was from the Crackle clan, who usually lived in the rougher climates of Russia, Greenland or Alaska.

Liseri had weathered the heat, in order to track down the Demon hunter that had murdered her sister and two brothers. She had finally caught up to him in San Francisco and when she was finished, she had nowhere to go. So, after hearing of the death of the Slayer from New York, in 1977, she felt it was finally safe to travel there. Which was where she met Mira. Candor rescued them from the Vampires and from that day on, the three went everywhere together.

Anya heard Willy approaching from the back room, with her Heineken and she offered Liseri, who had finally spotted her, a wave, before turning around. Even though, like Krelk, the Demoness hadn't technically met them yet. At least she felt pretty confident that these three wouldn't turn her away, without giving her a chance.

"Here you go," Willy said, placing her beer in front of her and removing the empty shot glass.

"Thanks," she sipped on the green bottle, before turning her eyes on the fidgeting human, "now, I need you to tell me everything that's been happening in town, for the last couple of months."

"Sure, no problem," he replied and some of his nerves seemed to calm down slightly.

Anya was happy to see that he no longer suspected that she would kill him and decided that, if he didn't piss her off in the next few hours, she'd let him know what kind of Demon she was. That should ease his mind some, as D'Hoffryn's girls were only a threat, if someone made a wish.

It was common knowledge.

As Willy began to speak, of the various Demonic clans in town, Anya rolled her eyes and held up a hand. "Sorry, my bad. Guess I wasn't specific enough. I wanna know about the Slayer, her group of humans and anyone that might've targeted her, in the last few months,"

Willy seemed to get the picture and started up again, this time painting a pretty decent time line, though it didn't ease Anya's mind any. The more the human said, the paler she got, when she finally realized why Willow's heart had chosen this time to return to. Logically, it made perfect sense, but that didn't remove the dangers.

The further back you went, the bigger the chances were that things could be altered, not for the better, but for the worse. And that's exactly what the redhead had risked, when she made her wish.

Thanking the tiny human for his help and asking him to set up a tab for her, she rolled her shoulders to get the tension out and walked over to the booth that held Candor, Mira and Liseri. She needed to relax and since she couldn't go out and find her family, her old friends would have to do.

Mentally, however, she was picturing Willow and had only one thing on her mind.

What have you done?

* * *

Greek Translation

"...he took everything, even the gift from..."

"...doesn't even appreciate all I've done..."

"Oh, just get over yourself, Katya. Maybe he wouldn't have left, if you weren't such a vain, selfish bitch!"

Cush Lake

"Hello, I was looking for some presents for a few friends. Could you help me?"

"Of course, kalos. Tell me something about them,"

"You have such powerful friends, my dear. You are a very lucky woman,"

"I'll take it."

* * *

"Now, if you'll pay attention to the marks on this particular copy, you will clearly see that..."

He had no choice but to tune out the sounds surrounding him, when he finally realized where he was. There was no possible way for him to think straight, with all these voices running through his head. He blinked a few times, just to make sure he hadn't been mistaken, but the room he was in didn't change. Didn't turn back into the living room of the home on Revello Drive. It didn't matter what he did.

It didn't change the fact that he was in the middle of class, at the Watchers Academy.

He looked around at all of his old classmates and sighed. He was no fool. Remembering the final words that Willow had spoken, before the world spun and disappeared, he knew what had happened. However, he also knew why Anya had felt it necessary to grant the wish.

There were quite a few things he would want to change, too, given the chance.

Considering the fact that he had spent a great deal of time, trying to block out his Watcher memories, unless they were needed for research purposes, he was having a hard time pinpointing when or where he was. He knew he was in London, at the Academy, but anything else was up for grabs at the moment.

Of course, it didn't help that there were no calendars in the room.

He searched deep inside his mind, to find the missing pieces to the puzzle. To the left of him sat Evander Collins, the younger brother of one of the members of the wet-works team. The very same one that had come to get Faith, both times. The younger Collins was just as much of a sniveling idiot as Wesley had been, the first time around. Even though his family didn't go as far back in the Council, as the Wyndam-Pryce's.

On his right was John Gaiter, originally from Ireland. It was rare for the Council to recruit outside of England, but when they finally did, they never strayed farther than the Irish, Scottish or Welsh natives. John was, as far as Wesley could remember, a good man. A good Watcher. From what he could remember hearing, Gaiter had been assigned a Potential, upon his Graduation and had been shipped off to his home of Ireland.

But, he could spend the next hour naming all of the fellow Watchers in training, and it would do him no good. He focused on the teacher, an old friend of his father if he wasn't mistaken and one of the reasons why Roger Wyndam-Pryce had been so disappointed in him. He reported back to the older man, how much Wes paid attention in class and apparently it wasn't enough for Roger. But then, nothing was.

Then, Wesley noticed the words on the left far side of the old-fashioned blackboard. Graduation was just around the corner and that's when he would be named head boy, which was a great honor and yet still not enough to impress his father. He had long ago realized why he had been chosen to go to Sunnydale. Because both Buffy and Faith had been lost causes and Travers was convinced that Wesley's presence would get them killed, so he could get himself a more malleable Slayer.

Which just made it easier for Wes to deal with his failure.

Though he would only have to stand three more days of this monotony, and then he would be an official Watcher, Wes knew it wasn't necessary. He had become his own man, over the years, and no one was going to take that from him. As soon as the bell rang, he would be heading for his dorm to pack up his things and then he had a plane to catch.

His family was waiting for him, back in the States.

He tapped his pen on the notebook that lay on his desk, ignoring the annoyed glances from his fellow classmates. This Wesley was not particularly set on making everyone happy, so he really couldn't care less if they looked down on him, as he knew they had for years. Even those that had been recruited outside and had no previous connection with the Council.

Bloody wankers, the lot of them, he thought.

At long last, fifteen minutes after returning to the past, the class was dismissed and Wesley packed up his things. The others went off to the next, in a long line of studies, while he made his way down the hall to the dorms. Unlike regular colleges, the Watchers Academy all had single rooms, so the students could concentrate on their studies, uninterrupted. Whether they were dealing with ancient languages or the mating rituals of a particular Demonic clan, silence was always important for results.

The second that the door closed behind him with a near-silent click, he went to work. He placed the books on the desk in the corner, got down on his knees and dug under his bed, pulling out his weathered suitcase. Setting it down on the bed, he walked over to the tiny closet and began pulling out his clothes and packing them in a hurry.

He didn't want to risk anyone coming to look for him.

It would be so much easier if he could slip out, without notice.

A half hour later, just as Anya was storming out of a Greek pub, Wesley grabbed the handle of his bag and walked back out the door. Luckily for him, there was no one milling in the hall, as all of the students were currently in class. This wasn't like a regular high school, or even college. Every single person here was set on their studies and never slacked off. Well, that was about to change.

Wes was about to become the very first drop-out, in Council history.

Bugger the consequences.

Getting out of the compound proved easier than he had been expecting, but then this Wes couldn't remember enough about this particular day, to know that all of the elder Watchers were in a meeting about the happenings on the Hellmouth and the risk to their Slayers. So, he kept a confused frown on his face, despite being grateful, as he walked down the long stone path, to the gates that led to the outside world of London, England.

Waking up in a time before mobile phones became all the new rage, Wes was forced to walk alongside the road, on his way to the next city, unable to hail a cab from the barren countryside. He cursed his luck in silence, when the skies darkened and rain began to come down in a hail of showers. Clad in his summer coat, due to the month he currently found himself in, he simply had to endure it.

Even as it soaked him to the bones.

His bags became heavier with each step and his glasses were slowly fogging up from the weather. He had been so used to contact lenses for years now, that he hadn't had the forethought to remember this infuriating part of being bespectacled. Unfortunately, there was no time, nor any free hands, to pull out the handkerchief from his pocket and see to the problem. So, he was forced to let the blurry blackness of the road lead him on, careful not to fall into any ditches along the way.

Hours might as well have passed, for all he knew, as the clouds never let up and allowed the sun to shine through, as he had become accustomed to back in Sunnydale. No cars passed him either, though this did not surprise him. There was a reason the Council had chosen their spot for the Academy and training facilities where many Demons and Vampires were being held.

No one ever came close to disturbing them.

However, just as he finished with this depressing thought, dashing the hope of dryness in the near future, he heard the tell-tale signs of an engine behind him. Despite the impossibility of actually seeing anything through his fogged up lenses, he still stopped his steady gait and turned his eyes on where he suspected the middle of the road was. Sure enough, less than a minute later, a blurry blob resembling a car, came to a halt in front of him.

"You look like you could use a lift, mate," the driver spoke, in a thick, Irish accent.

"If it's no problem," he countered, frustrated by his lack of sight.

"Nah, 's nothing. Was headed for the big city, wouldn't mind some company," he replied, before realizing Wesley's conundrum.

The driver quickly got out of the car and helped Wes into the passenger seat of the small car, before getting back in himself and starting the engine back up. The Watcher quickly got to work, pulling out his handkerchief and ridding the glasses of the water that had accumulated there. It was a few minutes, before he was able to replace them on his nose and he turned to look at his somewhat rescuer.

"Thank you, sir. I'd no idea how long it would be, before I got to a dry spot," he said, showing his gratitude through a small smile.

The man shook his hand around in the air. "Like I said, mate, 's no problem. And enough of that sir crape, the name's Doyle, yeh. Who're you?"

"Uh, sorry. I'm Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, it's good to meet you, Doyle," he wondered why he had only been given a first name, but shrugged it off.

Not everyone was brought up with the same stiff manners as him.

"Yeah, likewise. Now, what brings you out here, in the middle of nowhere?" His tone was gentle, not prying and he seemed genuinely curious.

"Ah, that's a bit of a long story, I should say. I used to go to school out there, the large compound a few miles from here. That is to say, I dropped out. Today," he stated bluntly, too tired to try and make up a false reason for his whereabouts.

Doyle laughed and stared at Wes with clear mirth in his eyes. "I'll say it's been a bit of an eventful day, then. Well, if you're not in a hurry, I say we find us a small pub when we get to London and you can wind down a bit," he offered and had no idea how grateful this made his passenger.

"That sounds bloody wonderful, Doyle. I'll have to take you up on that," he replied, relaxing into his seat and finally allowing himself to lose some of that stiff British behavior, that Spike had helped with in the past two years.

"Good on you, mate," he clapped a hand on Wes' shoulder a few times, before returning his hands to the wheel.

As the rain continued to pour down from the Heavens, two unlikely companions made their way into the big city, neither aware of what or who the other was. But then, that didn't matter. For now, they would find comfort in a fellow man and relish in the loss of solitude.

There would be time for answers later.

* * *

Not long after arriving in the bustling center of London, the clouds had parted and the sun peeked through. It wasn't much, but then this _was_ England, after all. However, the rain had stopped and that was more than enough.

True to his word, as soon as they crossed the city limits, Doyle parked the car not far from one of the smaller pubs in town. Wesley had never been here before, but it was obvious that his companion had, if the greetings when they entered was anything to go by.

Now, they sat in a soft and comfortable booth, in one of the darker corners of the establishment, each with a glass of ale in front of them. This, he _had_ missed. It was one of those things that he and Spike easily agreed on. The Americans had no taste for real beer, only the watered down piss they called barley.

"So, you heard my story. What put you in the fields today?" Wesley asked, growing more confident, the more time passed. It had been strange, at first, to be in his old body, that he had begun acting like his old self.

Time, it seemed, and a hand of friendship, was all it took to bring back the person he had become in the future.

"Here's the thing," Doyle said, fidgeting with his beer. "Obviously you need no help figuring out where I hail from. 'S not where I grew up, though. I was about fifteen, when me mum brought me to the States to live. Stayed there even after she passed on. Anyway, I recently found out some not-so-pleasant stuff bout my heritage and I came back to do some... research, you could say," he felt uncomfortable, not wanting to blurt out his Demonic blood to someone who may very well not know anything about the other world.

"Oh," he had no idea what to say. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother, Doyle." was all he could get out in the awkwardness that had suddenly taken over the two men.

Another wave of a hand followed. "Nah, mate, you couldn't have known. Besides, it was a long time ago, yeh? 'S fine. But, I'm heading back for the States, now. It's why I'm in London, actually."

"Did you find what you came for?"

Doyle looked up at his new friend, trying to figure out how to answer that. "I'm not sure,"

The next few hours passed without any more awkward silences, as the two men got to know each other a bit more.

Doyle learned that Wesley came from a family that worried more about breeding than actual affection and felt pleased for the time he got to have with his loving mother. Even if he'd never met his father. He learned of the friends the Brit had back in the States and was quick to put out the idea of them traveling together, since Doyle had always been planning on going to Los Angeles, on his return to America.

Wesley learned that Doyle was a bit of a ruffian, but with heart. He liked to piss people off and the two were almost kicked out of the pub, twice, in the few hours they had been here, because of the smaller man's behavior. Wes could clearly see the resemblance between Doyle and Spike, though the man in front of him was a bit less confident and unsure of his place.

Although, logically, Spike was the same way, but had more than a century to perfect the stoic mask.

Still not quite over losing his wife, Doyle had yet to make any new friends, only enemies, since finding out the truth of his heritage, so it felt good to hear Wesley speak so highly of the ones waiting for him back in the States. He felt that maybe he would take a weekend trip to the small town not far from LA, to meet these interesting people.

What kind of name was Spike, anyway?

After calling the airport and securing two seats on their next plane out to California, they chatted some more, as the sun set outside. The pub filled up slowly, until two people holding onto one, large booth became impossible. So, the men decided to go a few streets away to a restaurant, before it was time to board their flight.

They still had a few hours to kill.

"So, why'd you drop out?" Doyle said, all blunt-like, as they waited for their food to arrive.

Wesley spared a small smile, as it made him think of Anya, before deciding to be as honest as he could. "I've never been able to live up to my father. I suppose you could say that I just got sick of trying. The school was my attempt to follow in the old man's footsteps and is no longer what I want for myself."

It lessened some of Doyle's guilt, realizing that his new friend didn't truly mind telling his story. Although the guilt of the large secret he was keeping from him probably would have disappeared all together, if he knew that Wes was keeping a much bigger one. After all, time travel stumps Demon half-breed, any day.

"Sounds rough," he mumbled, gulping on his ale.

He hadn't quite reached the point of always smelling of booze, just yet.

"Yes, well, I'm sure things will get better from now on. Once I get to Sunnydale and see my family, everything will be better,"

Doyle didn't miss the way Wes seemed to force himself to believe his own words.

* * *

It was probably the seventh time, in less than three hours, that Wesley rolled his eyes in annoyance. His companion couldn't seem to find a proper spot in the seat, for resting and was tossing and turning more than should be possible for such a tiny, airplane chair. It wasn't like they were ensconced in first class.

Finally, he'd had quite enough.

"Doyle." He said, waiting until he had his attention. "Would you _please_ stop that infernal commotion, you are driving me to the bat, man," he grumbled, lowly, not wanting to get the attention of any fellow passengers or flight attendants.

"Uh," the smaller man replied, his face showing shame, "sorry, mate. I'll be all still as a mouse, scouts honor," he gestured to Wes and finally found the comfortable position he was looking for.

When, five minutes later, he was aching to shift, he bit back the urge and stayed in place.

Wes never noticed a thing.

The man in question was busy inside his own scattered mind. He thought of what his family might be up to, at this very moment. Knowing _when_ he was back was not as big of a help, as he had first thought. Prior to his arrival in Sunnydale, Travers and the other elder Watchers had not bothered to let him in on the current situation on the Hellmouth. Back then, he had put so much trust in the Council, that he had never thought to question the strangeness of that.

Things were different now, especially since he had figured out exactly _why_ he was chosen to go.

However, knowing the specific year and date, did help some. Not much, but it was certainly better than nothing, right?

He felt he could draw out a somewhat accurate schedule of events, though it wouldn't surprise him if nothing he thought up would prove to be true. With his head throbbing and the sounds of the engine below him, he was simply too distracted to give it his best efforts. He supposed it didn't really matter, though, as he would soon be arriving and finding out for certain, anyway.

And then he wondered, not for the first time, how many of his family members had made it to town already.

Except for the obvious one, of course, who had never left.

His mind took a different turn, then, without any outside prodding. He thought of those he had left back in Los Angeles. Despite all the bad feelings between them, they had still meant something to him, a long time ago. He knew where their lives would end up and knew how to, maybe, make things a bit easier for them. Especially since he had no idea if his early presence in Sunnydale, along with the others in his family, would somehow keep Angel from venturing to the big city.

There was the loss of Gunn's sister, the death of the half-breed Demon that had worked with Angel and Cordelia, before he came along. He couldn't seem to remember his name at the moment, though. Then, there was Darla's return, which also brought him to Connor's existence and the thought that maybe he was better of never being born. Who knew what lengths Holtz would be willing to go to, if circumstances shifted. Then, Cordelia's possession and subsequent coma, which Wes was sure she'd never wake from.

So much to do, so little time.

After all, to his own experience, life on the Hellmouth kept one busy.

A glance to his side showed a snoring Doyle, who had finally stopped moving about and calmed down enough to fall asleep. Wes smiled, knowing that the young man had had a long day, even before he stopped to pick up a British straggler. Hopefully he would stay out for the rest of the trip, though it was a long shot, since they still had more than six hours left to go. One could only wish for so much.

Wish...

Wes thought of Anya, wondered where in the world she was at that very moment. If she had already figured out what had happened and where they had all been returned to. Because he was sure it was all of them. If _he_ had been sent back, he wasn't the only one, not when you considered the phrasing of Willow's words. The 'for us' was hard to miss, even if they were all a bit shocked at the time.

The fact that Anya hadn't come directly to him, niggled at the back of his mind and he couldn't but wonder, if Anya had been sent back into her former body, as he had, was she back to being a regular Vengeance Demon? That wouldn't bode well for her future and it wouldn't make for a very happy camper, but he couldn't see any other reason for why she hadn't just come by to check up on him.

Patience was not a virtue for this woman, he thought with a chuckle.

Then again, they had all matured in so many different ways, in the two years they spent in their home, after The Incident. It was quite possible that the Demoness had simply learned a few things and had decided to let the others get to Sunnydale in their own time. Because if there's one thing Wesley _didn't_ doubt, it's that all the patience in the world, wouldn't stop Anya from teleporting _herself_ to the small town.

She hadn't grown _that_ much.

The plane shook and crashed through the somewhat violent turbulence and Wes grabbed a firm hold of the armrests at his side. He heard a few gasps of fear from the other passengers and wondered if they had ever flown before. Thanks to years in the business, he had been through too much to let a little bad weather make him crazy. The plane could crash or it could get them safely to their destination, but for Wesley he paid it no mind.

He knew that people only died, when it was their time.

Unless someone went back in time and changed it, of course.

His thoughts drifted to Faith. He had no idea what she had been up to, at this point in time, when she was still an undiscovered Potential living in Boston. Even with all of their resources and research available to them, the Council had never managed to trace back her past, from the moment her first Watcher found her. Everything before that, was an empty, black hole.

And even with their new closeness, Wes had never asked. At that point, they had both come so far, that it no longer mattered what kind of ashes they had risen from, only they fact that they had gotten back up on the horse, so to speak. But now, he wondered. Was she okay? Was she in trouble? Would the memory of having Slayer strength get her killed, if she forgot, even for a moment, that she was back to being a normal girl?

He hoped that Anya had at least had the forethought to check up on Faith, even if she didn't come to him, Spike or Willow. Then again, without knowing the exact story of the dark Slayer's past, it would be impossible to guess that she was in any sort of danger. For all Wes knew, Faith could've come from a perfectly normal home and her turning evil was just her way of rebelling. He didn't think so, but anything was possible.

Right?

He didn't bother worrying about Spike. Not only because he had no idea when Spike had showed up in Sunnydale or how he had come to switch sides, but also because Spike was the kind of Vampire who always made it out of a tight spot. No matter how tight. And, with Willow being relatively safe and already on the Hellmouth, she wasn't at the forefront of his mind, either.

There was just no reason to worry over things that need not be worried over. Not when he already had so much on his mind.

Wanting to give his aching head a breather, he leaned back in his seat, took off his glasses and rubbed the area between his eyebrows. He would have to sign up for contacts as soon as he returned to the States. He may miss the spectacles, on the rare occasion where he is stressed out enough to want to clean them, but nothing can quite beat the freedom of lenses.

His carry-on felt heavy in his lap, as he lay his head back on the seat and clutched the leather bag to his stomach. There were some very important tomes inside, that he had managed to take with him, when he packed up his dorm room. Books that the Council had yet to discover the actual importance of, which explained why they were in his possession. If not for his trip to the past, he wouldn't have known either.

Books that might end up being crucial to their newly-made future.

He wouldn't know until he translated them, though, and that might very well take forever. Despite the fact that languages had always been his strongest trait, within the Council, it didn't mean that he was infallible. Sumerian, Ancient Greece, Latin, and some Demonic ones as well. Those he could do. In his sleep. These books, however, was in a language he had never seen nor heard before.

He didn't even know if it was human or not.

But he knew, however instinctively, that they were of great importance. Now, more than ever. He couldn't say why, but his instincts hadn't failed him too much in the past. Not enough to stop trusting them. Unfortunately, he knew better than to assume Giles would know. After all, Wesley's strength, when it came to translating, far outdid the older man's, whose own superiority lay with identifying the various species of Demons the world had to offer.

But he couldn't think about this now, not when there was so much else to think of. So much to go through, in his vast and troubled mind, before he arrived in what he now thought of, as his hometown. It still worried him that he couldn't pinpoint what was happening there right now. Especially since the calendar told him that it was the time of year for the annual apocalypse.

There was no missing _that_.

It had been the same in Los Angeles, after all.

Doyle grunted beside him and turned, but didn't wake up. Wes wanted nothing more than to sleep, in the carefree way his friend was doing, but his mind refused to slow down long enough for it to be possible. It was a flaw he was starting to become accustomed to.

It never stopped, this constant worry.

And, as soon as this plane pulled onto the tarmac, it would only triple in size.

There was no doubt of that.

* * *

"Well, what do ya want me to say, Annie? Want me to admit that I screwed up? Fine, I screwed up! Happy now?" He screamed, voice hoarse with anger.

Annie shrank back into the corner of the room, worried about what he might do, but angry enough to yell back. "Sure, Mike, _that's_ what I want. Thanks for that. I'm _real_ happy now. Why do you _always_ do this? What could I have possible done, to deserve this kinda treatment from you!" She yelled back, while still pressed up against the white wall.

"I'm telling you, Annie, it was a mistake. What else do ya need to hear from me? It was that whore's fault, she cornered me, dammit!" There was a vein, throbbing in his forehead and Annie recognized the signs. He was about to lose it.

"You didn't have to fuck her!" The cowering woman screeched back and, even though she knew it was coming, it still stung.

Her hand instantly came up, to cover the spot he had taken his anger out on, as she delicately rubbed her cheek. She didn't know why she continued to put up with his crap. She couldn't keep pretending that it was for the sake of the children, they weren't _hers_ anyway. No, she knew why. It was because she was weak. Without him, she wasn't sure how she would survive.

How she would afford her _fix_.

"I don't wanna hear that kinda talk in _my_ house, Annie. You _will_ show me some respect, got that?" He towered over her menacingly, his hand raised in an obvious threat.

She didn't dare move. She could smell the liquor on his breath, as he gasped for breath, his eyes flashing red. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow moving behind him. Her gaze widened, but before Mike could notice the newest presence in the room, he was lying on the floor, out like a light.

Behind him, Annie's oldest stood, hands clenched tightly in front of her, in a defensive posture.

"Faith...," she whispered, shocked by what had happened.

She had always known that the brunette was a tough one, it was hard not to be with her past, but she had never seen her _this_ pissed off before. Despite her temper, Faith had always known better than to go up against Mike, who was bigger and stronger than her. But now, something had changed.

She could see it in her eyes, flashing even redder than her husband's had, just moments earlier.

"Annie," she said, more calmly than she felt right now, "you gotta stop doing this to yourself. One of these days... he's gonna kill you." Then she shook her head. It was a lost cause. She'd never listen to her. "Look, I'm leaving, alright? Make up whatever story you want when he wakes up. By then, I'll be long gone. Y'all have a nice life," she rolled her eyes, as she spoke the words with a thick, sarcastic tone.

"You're leaving?" The words were whispered in soft tones, but it didn't come from the woman, who was slowly getting a black eye.

Faith turned around and then crouched down, so she could look her in the eye. "Yeah, squirt, I gotta jet. This isn't my home, not anymore. Sorry, but that's just how it's gotta be." She said, staring at the first person she had ever truly let herself care about.

Sarah rubbed her tired eyes, while she clutched tightly onto her teddy, that she held in her right arm. She didn't want her friend to leave. She had only been in this place for a few months, but knew that with Faith gone, there was nothing to protect her from the screaming matches between Annie and Mike. No ones bed to climb into, when she heard the crashing coming from the living room.

"But why? I don' want you to go," she said, her bottom lip quivering.

Faith sighed and took Sarah by the shoulders. "I know, little one. I'm gonna miss you, too. But this is what I've gotta do. Tell you what, you get yourself all grown up and you can come look for me. How's that?" She implored, wanting to get out before Mike woke up.

Not that she was in any way scared of him, but she didn't want Sarah to see _that_ particular side of her.

The one where she beat the crap out of him.

A tear fell down the little girl's face, but still she nodded her tiny head, as brown ringlets fell around her face. "Kay, Faith, I promise. You'll remember me, then?" Her voice was so small, filled with fear.

Faith chuckled. "Course I will, squirt. I ain't never gonna forget you." She smiled.

"Promise," Sarah sniffled.

"I promise," then she pulled the girl tight to her, patted her a few times on the back and let her go.

She rose from the floor and took one last look at the room. A place she had never been able to call home, even before she experienced it for the second time. She glanced at Annie, who was sitting by Mike's knocked out form, caressing his face and running her fingers through his hair. Typical, she thought, with a snort and a roll of her eyes. Some things never changed.

She sighed and bent down to pick up the small duffel bag she had packed, before coming downstairs. It hadn't taken her long to realize what was going on, years of being locked up made a person aware of their surroundings, more than ever before. She had learned, early on, to sleep with one eye open and to always, _always_, be quick on her feet and in her mind. It's what made her a great Slayer.

Before she could make it to the front door, something tugged at her pant leg. Sarah was staring up at her with glistening eyes and Faith felt it deep in her heart. After she had been approached by her Watcher and had left this place behind, she had always wondered what had become of this little girl. Wondered whether or not she had made it out, or had ended up succumbing to society's thinking of lost kids.

She prayed that Sarah had fought it and come out clean.

"I want you to have this, Faith. Then you'll really never forget me," she whispered, holding out her teddy for the brunette to take.

"You wanna give up Dale? You sure? You love this little guy," she said, secretly awed by the gesture.

Sarah carried that thing everywhere she went. She'd even named it after her older brother, who had passed away a few years ago. "It's just for a little while. You'll keep him safe for me, 'till I come and find you. Both of you."

Moments like these, Faith couldn't help but wonder how she could be so smart, at her age. She spoke with an assurance that Faith herself had never had, when she was seven. But then again, trauma makes most people grow up, faster than usual. And Sarah had seen her fair share of _that_, over the last couple of years.

She reached out, her fingers coming in contact with the soft fur of the brown bear, as she stared into his glassy eyes. It was an offer made with more emotion than it would seem, to any outsider perspective. Faith remembered, two months from now, just before her Watcher had found her. Her and Sarah had been forced to escape the house, as Mike was in another one of his snits. The little girl had flat out _refused_ to go anywhere with her, until they went back and got Dale.

She had not moved an inch, until Faith had caved.

"Okay, little one. I'll take perfect care of Dale, until you come to us. But then you gotta promise _me_ something, alright?" She implored her with her eyes.

"Anything," she said, her innocence shining through.

"I want you to take good care of yourself, you hear me? Don't try to be brave, okay? If something is going down," she said, glancing at Mike, "you run, as fast and far as you can. And, never forget this," she leaned in close, so Annie wouldn't over hear, "Sunnydale, California. That's where you'll find me."

When she pulled back, Sarah had a bright smile on her face. Faith had finally managed, by naming her whereabouts, to convince her that she really was planning on remembering her. And, on letting her find her way to the older girl, someday. Inside, Sarah silently promised herself that, as soon as she was old enough, she would escape. And then, she would find the town with the funny name.

And then, Faith was gone and Sarah stood there, in the middle of the living room, smiling. Dale was gone, but she'd see him again. She was sure of that. Just as she knew that Faith would take good care of him, wouldn't let any harm befall him. And she would wait for her.

Someday, they would be reunited.

This one thing, she knew.

* * *

The dim lights flickered every third seconds, like something out of a low-budget horror film. The spoon in her coffee was spotted with old stains and the table shook when she leaned her weight on it. But this had been her home away from home, since she was barely a teenager and she wouldn't trade it for the world.

Even if the coffee tasted like rusty nails.

In the very middle of Boston city, in between tall buildings and high security banks, there was a tiny diner, nestled so deeply in the back, that you wouldn't notice it unless you already knew it was there. It was run by an elderly, Polish couple, who had opened it more than thirty years ago. The woman, Mrs. Waslowski, had escaped from her home land, at the tender age of eight, when the Nazis invaded her country.

Faith had been running from a group of girls that she knew in school. They wanted her to join their gang and hadn't taken her refusal very well. Just when she had thought she couldn't run any longer, Mrs. Waslowski had called out to her, offered her a place of safety in the big, dangerous city. After that, she had come here regularly, until she was forced to change foster families.

Then, the trip had been too long for her to make, with no cash for the bus.

This was the first time she was back, in more than a year. She had been welcomed in with open arms and pushed into a seat, a warm cup of Joe set down in front of her. Mr. Waslowski, who insisted she call him Ralph, had hurried into the kitchen, upon her arrival, to make her a plate of bacon and eggs. The diner specialty. The rest of the menu consisted mostly of Polish dishes, despite the country they had lived in for so long.

She had no intention of drinking the coffee, unless she absolutely had to, but it felt nice to warm her hands on the steamy cup. It might be summer time, but this wasn't California. Massachusetts was a much colder state and the city of Boston was no exception. Not to mention the fact that it was two in the morning and the temperature was well below zero. And Faith didn't exactly have much, in the form of a winter coat.

"Here you go, sweetheart," Mrs. Waslowski said, in an almost perfect American accent, as she set the plate down in front of her.

"Thanks, Marta," Faith smiled, grateful to see a familiar face.

The last time around, she hadn't seem them after moving, because she had been busy running from Kakistos and mourning her Watcher. But she had missed them. While it was true that Faith had always had trust issues, she also knew that you didn't have to trust someone, in order to care for them. And she cared about Marta and Ralph. They were the grandparents she never had.

The elderly woman offered her a warm smile and then returned to the kitchen. There were never that many people in the diner, even if it was a normal time of day and Faith had always wondered how the couple was able to keep running shop. She was convinced they were broke, but somehow they made it work.

She shook her head with a smile. After everything they had been through, before coming to this country, it wasn't that hard to believe that they were both fighters. And they loved this diner like it was their child. They would fight for it, right until the very end. _That's_ why it was still standing, she was sure.

Unlike Anya, who was sitting in the Alibi Room at this moment, or Wesley, who was trying to ignore Doyle's snores on the airplane to Los Angeles, Faith couldn't just jump on a bus and make her way to California. Being the child of endless foster homes, she had no money to her own name. She had no idea when she'd be able to arrive in Sunnydale, but knew she couldn't procrastinate too much.

She'd have to go about it the same way as the last time she left Boston.

And that meant hitchhiking.

She knew it would be no problem now, even if it was in the middle of the night. She could easily feel the power pulsing through her and even if it hadn't been for the punch she laid on Mike earlier, there still would have been no doubt. She was a Slayer and could take care of herself.

When she had first come to, in the tiny room of her foster home, it had worried her. She had wondered if she was back to being a Potential and what that would mean for her future. She was so used to having power, to being strong, that surely she would end up in trouble, if she lost that. Because she would continue to act as if it was still there. So, she was definitely pleased to find out, in the moment she hit her foster parent, that it was still there.

It being the thing that made her, her.

The thing that made it worth living, in her mind.

She was half-way through her meal, when a shadow fell over her plate. She swallowed the bacon, put down the fork and prepared herself for the possibility of danger. Perhaps if she'd been thinking clearly, she'd have been able to figure out who the figure was. As it was, Faith was confused and reeling from the trip to her past and simply _wasn't_ thinking clearly. So, it came as a shock, when she recognized the shadow.

"Ms. Dormer?" She gasped and then winced.

After all, she wasn't supposed to know her name yet.

The woman in question raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me? How do you know my name?"

Faith's mind raced, trying to come up with a believable explanation. Sweat broke out on her forehead and she mentally slapped herself, thinking of her friends back in Sunnydale. _They'd _never make a mistake like this, but she didn't exactly have the same smarts that they did. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Then, as if the clouds parted in the sky, she remembered something from her past. She looked over at the familiar woman, who had sat down across from her by now, and tried to swallow back the tears. This was the woman she had gotten killed, because she was too cocky to learn what it meant to be a Slayer, before Kakistos came looking.

"Mike told me you'd come by, so I took a wild guess," she said, shrugging as if it was no big deal.

Thankfully, the young Watcher seemed to accept this, as she nodded in reply. "Very well, then. Although feel free to call me Diana, alright? Anything else seems so... informal. And you and I will be getting to know each other very well, Faith," she said, sounding so sure that the brunette almost believed her. Almost.

After all, she knew she'd have to ditch her sometime soon.

It was nothing personal.

Faith realized that it would look suspicious if she just accepted the other woman's presence in her life, without asking any questions, so she resigned herself to acting oblivious, until she could lose the Watcher in the Boston crowd. Which she'd have to do soon, before she got her killed. Again.

"Okay, Diana, you wanna tell me why you're looking for me? And why you think we're gonna be best buds?" She tried to come off as intimidating, knowing that Ms. Dormer was expecting it, based on the file she had on Faith.

"This really isn't the best place for this discussion, Faith. I have a hotel room not too far from here, if you'd like to join me," Diana said, in that haughty tone that Faith was beginning to think only Brits could get away with.

Wes had been the same way, the first time she met him.

Faith made a show of staring around the empty diner, where the only current customers were her, Ms. Dormer and an old, drunk man at the other end by the door. The Waslowski couple were in the kitchen, ready to come out when the bell rang. Then, she turned her eyes back on the Watcher, raising one brow in a dare.

Diana sighed. "Yes, well, I suppose it _is_ wise of you not to trust me." She had a look of admiration in her eyes, that told Faith she really meant her words. "I flew in from London two nights ago, looking for what's called a Potential. We'll get into the specifics later. Then, a few hours ago I received a phone call from one of my associates back in England. Apparently, you are no longer a Potential, Faith. You have been Chosen."

"Chosen for _what_ exactly?" She asked, internally rolling her eyes at the necessary charade she was forced to put on.

Diana stirred the spoon around in her coffee, a look of utter disgust on her face. Her eyes lifted to meet Faith's head on. "As I said, we will discuss the specifics later. All you need to know, at the moment, is that you'll no longer have to return to that _place_, if you do not wish to. I can put you up in a nice flat, once everything is cleared and you have all of the information."

Faith wasn't the least bit surprised, though she did wonder if Watcher's memorized this. It was the exact same spiel she had fed her the first time, down to the emotional way she referred to the Slayer's foster home. Again, that didn't surprise her. Mike was the kind of person who you just _knew_, the moment you saw him, was bad news. Just because you happened to be of a different nationality, didn't make you blind.

And Faith supposed that the one thing Watcher's _did_ have in spades, was intellect.

Even if they were sorely lacking smarts.

"Alright, you got my attention. Where did you wanna do this?" She asked, calling Marta over to take her plate.

She knew her money was no good here, even if she had any.

Diana waited until the elderly woman was back in the kitchen, before answering. "My hotel room is not that far from here. If you would follow me back, we can talk. I'll answer any question you may have, granted if it is within my power to do so." Living with Wes for so long hadn't prepared Faith for the stick up this woman's ass.

Even Giles had never been this bad. Right?

Faith pretended to think this over, for a few seconds. "I tell you what; I'll go with you and see where you're staying at. Then, I'll swing by the foster's place, pick up a few things and then meet you back there later. How's that?"

Of course, Faith already had everything she needed, in the duffel by her feet, but Ms. Dormer didn't know that. This would be her only chance to run. Sure, as a Slayer, there was no way that the Watcher could stop her, but she'd like to be as far away as possible, before the Council was contacted. Hopefully half-way to Cali by then.

"Sure, Faith, that's quite alright. Come on, then. I'm not used to these hours and I need my sleep. Shall we?" She asked, rising from her seat and gesturing to Faith.

As inconspicuously as possible, Faith pushed the duffel to the other end of the floor, successfully stashing it in the corner of the booth. She'd double back later to get it. One glance at Marta told her that the woman would make sure no one stole it, though she did also throw a worried glance in Diana's direction. Probably wondering, if Faith was going to all this trouble, if the woman was a danger to her pseudo-granddaughter.

"Yeah, let's jet," she said, moving quickly out of her seat and, with one last look at Marta, she followed the Watcher outside.

* * *

Of all the missions she had gone on, since gaining her Slayer strength and fighting the good fight, this had definitely been the easiest. Although, she did feel a twinge of guilt, for the gullible and trusting Watcher, who was probably still waiting for her to return to the hotel room. For all Diana knew, she was having a hard time getting away from Mike, who the older woman had already had the displeasure of meeting.

But, guilt or not, it had to be done.

As per her own personal agreement, Faith had doubled back to the diner, said her goodbyes to the Waslowski couple, grabbed her duffel and skipped out again. By now, a half hour had passed and she was well on her way to California. She'd barely reached the city limits, before her thumb had done the job and gotten her a ride with a woman, who appeared to be in her late thirties.

The only problem being, that she insisted on chatting Faith up on the entire ride.

"So, where did you say you were going again?" She asked, a way too bright smile on her face and the Slayer had to swallow the urge to knock her shiny, white teeth out.

She may be redeemed, but she's not perfect.

"Uh, California. I've got family there," which was the truth, she supposed, in more ways than her real mother had ever been.

"Oh, that's nice. I'm only going as far as New York, though. But you're certainly free to join me all the way," she grinned at her and Faith was nice enough to lend her a false one back.

"Sure, that's fine. I'll figure something out when we get there," then, she stared at the terrain outside the car window. "When _are_ we going to get there?" She wondered aloud.

The driver, who had insisted she call her Mary Sue, dear god, checked the speedometer. "Well, with the time we're making, it shouldn't be more than a few days. If you don't mind, we could take turns driving, that way we won't have to waste time sleeping in motels on the road."

Faith didn't bother telling her she didn't have a license. She'd always survived without one and in this world, she didn't have anything but a juvie record with the cops. "That's fine," she repeated, "you in a hurry, or something?" Life in Sunnydale had made her more tolerant and honestly, she was just a little bit curious.

Mary Sue glanced at her, a nervous look on her face. "Or something," she said, and it was the first time her smile faltered.

Faith realized that maybe her bright charade was a way to cover up how she _really_ felt. "Oh, sorry. If you wanna talk... but otherwise I'll stay out of it," she offered, knowing how it could sometimes help to open up, especially to a stranger you'd more than likely never see again.

"That's sweet," she didn't continue and Faith knew her driver had made the choice.

A half hour later, she was proven wrong.

Or maybe Mary Sue just changed her mind.

"I grew up in New York, y'know," she began, still staring out at the road, which was entering morning by now. "I know it doesn't seem that way, with my name and attitude. It's supposed to be such a rough city. But, it's not _all_ like Queens, just so you know," she glanced at Faith, a hard look in her eyes.

"I always liked it there, even with all the noise and cars and... everything. Then, my mother passed away and my older sister moved in with her boyfriend. It was just me and my dad, which was awkward. We'd never been close, y'know? Anyway, I felt like I was suffocating, in my own home. I had to live there, cause I couldn't afford my own apartment, while having to pay my way through community college,"

Faith watched as a light entered her eyes, that she hadn't seen as of yet. It reminded her of something she'd seen before, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Then I met Tom," she sighed, unknowingly rubbing the part of her finger where a wedding band would usually be. "He was so gorgeous and smart. He was studying law, but at a decent university. We fell in love and he convinced me to leave New York after graduation, cause he got a great job offer in Boston. I was so proud of him and, with my mom gone and things strange with my dad, I jumped at the opportunity,"

"I loved it in Boston. The city was so... _different_ than New York, it was amazing. We settled into a pretty good life. It might sound boring to others, but I loved it. Last year, we finally decided to have kids. We were gonna wait until after the wedding though," her smile was sad and Faith wondered what had happened.

But she didn't want to push.

Mary Sue leaned back in her seat, settling in, as they made it to rush hour on a bridge. The low hum of the radio was heard in the background, but Faith didn't pay it any mind. She was completely set on letting Mary Sue finish her story. Even if she could already guess the ending.

"We got married in January of this year," she sighed, but it was a happy, nostalgic one this time. "It was so beautiful. My family flew out for the occasion and things weren't so bad between my dad and me. It felt really nice when he walked me down the aisle. Of course, my sister was a bridesmaid, with a friend I'd made after moving to Boston as the Maid of Honor. Tom looked so handsome in his suit and tie,"

"Instead of a honeymoon, because there just wasn't the time with Tom's work and everything, we stayed at a B&B for a weekend. In some ways, it was better. It was long enough to enjoy what had changed in our relationship, but we both loved our every day life, so we didn't mind going back to it after a few days. In many ways, we were perfectly suited for each other," she choked on the last word and tears were building in her eyes.

Faith pushed away her need to be closed off and lay a hand on Mary Sue's. "What happened?"

"He... he was going to w-work, one morning... there h-had been an a-accident on the street... h-he never even s-saw... the truck..." She appeared to take in a deep breath, before drying the tears from her face. "So, I decided to move back. I couldn't stay in that house, let alone that city, anymore," she said, still not looking at her passenger.

Faith honestly didn't know what to say. She wasn't comfortable dealing with such displays of emotional loss of control. Then again, she understood that feeling of loss. She could live to be a thousand, and she'd never forget the night of the funeral. The speeches. The feeling of... emptiness, when she stared at the four caskets on the ground. It had been so... surreal.

She bent down to the bottom of the car and fished around in the duffel by her feet. Her hand grasped something soft and wooly and she pulled out Dale, gripping him to her chest. It was times like these that she felt the loss of her childhood. One that had never really been normal, to begin with.

"What's that?" Mary Sue asked, her voice finally back to some semblance of control.

Faith stared down at Dale. "My life preserver."

* * *

Her head felt like a million bricks had been dropped on her and she was groggy, unclear. She tried to remember what she'd been doing, before this pain struck her tired mind. Tried to conjure up a familiar image, but nothing was happening. It just hurt so much.

"Willow?" The voice sounded like it came from far away, but she could feel a warm hand over her own.

It also sounded painfully familiar.

She refused to open her eyes. It wasn't possible for it to be a dream, as she had never felt agony like this in dreams before. But maybe it was a nightmare. Maybe she was being punished, by having something she wanted so bad, dangled in front of her face. It would be fair, of course, but oh so cruel.

And then she remembered.

"The wish!" She exclaimed, as she sat up in bed, so fast it made her head spin. "Ow,"

"Thank god," the voice sighed from beside her and her eyes widened.

_I wish, for us, to go back to when it all started._

Anya had granted it. It had really happened. She couldn't believe it. By now, she had opened her eyes, but they were staring straight forward, to the white wall on the other end. She didn't dare move it even an inch. What if it really _was_ just a dream? She couldn't survive that.

But it felt so real.

"Is she okay? I mean, she's so _pale_. Well, paler than usual,"

"Cordy, shut up, okay?"

Oh god, it _was_ real. No way would she ever dream of _her_, no matter how much she might have lost her mind. It had really happened. She had succeeded, had done the impossible. She was back in time.

Finally, she allowed her eyes to move, as they finally landed on the form of her victim. But before that, her best friend. Her oldest friend. Her _Xander_.

"Oh, wow," she breathed out, her eyesight gaining spots, as she fought off the urge to faint.

Xander sat in a chair by her bed, a goofy smile on his face and... was he always this young? She finally registered the incessant beeping in the background and the unmistakable sound of nurses in the hall. She was in the hospital. But what was she doing here?

Had the time travel injured her?

"What happened?" Her voice sounded pitiful, even to her own ears.

"You mean you don't remember?" Xander spoke again and the sound caressed her entire being, as she was encased with utter joy, for the first time in years.

Only after she had shaken her head in denial, did she realize her mistake. It felt like tiny midgets with tiny hammers, had taken up shop in her head and it was not a pleasant feeling. She must have shown her pain, as Xander immediately went to her side and ordered her to lie down, while Cordelia awkwardly asked if she should go get the doctor.

"No, I'm fine. Just tell me," was her reply, desperate to figure out just exactly _when_ she was back.

The two brunettes shared a worried look, but neither fought her on it, as Cordelia took to leaning back against the wall to her right, while Xander sat back down on her left.

"We were in the library. You were gonna do the spell, while Buffy went off to meet up with Deadboy," he stopped, as he saw the look of horror on his friend's face.

While she searched through the book in her room... when she had raced back downstairs and just stared at Anya... when she finally uttered those crucial words... when blackness took over, after hearing those two, important words from her friend's mouth... never had she expected this outcome.

This wasn't what she had meant, when she asked to go back.

She had expected something along the lines of the year Buffy was brought back. _Maybe_ the time before, when Glory was cutting a bloody swath through Sunnydale. But certainly not _this_. Because she knew exactly what was going on. From the moment Xander had mentioned the library, really, she had known. The rest of his words had only cinched it for her, though.

She was back in high school.

Junior year, if she wasn't mistaken.

Giles was being tortured by Angelus and Drusilla, while Acathla stood dormant in another part of the mansion. Buffy had been kicked out of school by the Snyder-rat and gotten chewed out by her mom, leaving her with no place to go, when the fight would finally be over. Kendra had been murdered. And she had been taken down by a bookcase, of all things, while Xander got off with nothing but a broken arm.

And now... now was when she would do the soul spell and it would be a success.

_I wish, for us, to go back to when it all started._

This was it, this moment right here, she suddenly realized. This was the first spell she ever did. For months before, she had gone through Ms. Calendar's belongings, but she had never actually _done_ anything, until this night. She had always toyed with the thought, but had been too meek and nervous to actually do something about it. Until it had been necessary, to ensure the happiness of her best, female friend.

That's why this moment had been her return. Because she had to do the unthinkable. She had to be a party in breaking Buffy's heart, even more than it already was. She had to keep Los Angeles from receiving a savior of their own, in a years time. She had to undo Connor's existence and Darla's return, albeit short, to this world. She had to go against everything she was sure the Powers That Be had planned for the cursed Vampire.

Because she had to _not_ do the spell.

This was where it all began. The path that took her down a darkness she had never dreamt capable of, the first time she lived through this night. The one that would take her soulmate away and force her to murder those she claimed to love, more than anything else. The one that would take a trusted Warrior of Light away from the Hellmouth. The path that destroyed everything.

And, despite not hating Angel, the way her family did, she knew she had to do it. She had to condemn one life, to save so many others. She refused to think of all the lives he would've gone on to save, in the big city. If she did, she'd never get through this. So, she told herself that Wes would know what was coming and that thought only led to another, equally important one.

She had made the wish. Did that mean she was the only one back?

Her throat closed, the spots returned to her sight and she couldn't breathe properly. Logically, she knew she was having a panic attack, even as Cordelia raced out into the hall to call for help, while Xander stood over her with a panicked look of his own, covering his face.

But she couldn't help it.

Sure, it was nice to be back with her friends. But what about her family?

She couldn't do this without them.

What was she supposed to do, without their comforting presence? And not the fake ones that were here in the past, the ones that didn't know her. No, she needed those that only had to look at her, to know something was wrong. Well, Spike had always been able to do that, of course, but the others hadn't. Hell, they hadn't even been friends, let alone family, before The Incident and everything that followed.

She couldn't do it. Not without Anya's bluntness, to take out the sting of what she had so carelessly done. The way the blonde could always take her mind off everything, with just a gesture. Willow wanted to watch her do her special dance, wanted to hear stories of the men she eviscerated in her past, wanted to see her silly smile whenever a customer agreed to purchase something.

Wanted to hear Wes' soothing, British voice, telling her that everything was going to be alright, when she was waking up from a nightmare. Needed his assurances that the Demon of the week had a weak spot, while he polished his favorite ax. She had to have his weird obsession with Monty Python and the fact that he knew all the dialogue by heart. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and that he made the best pecan pie she'd ever had.

How could she do without the tenacity of Faith, the woman she had once hated so. How was she to survive without her dry humor and masculine chuckle. Or the way she saved the crust for last, when eating a sandwich. How she used battle cries, instead of puns, when she was fighting. The look she got in her eyes, when some guy caught her attention in the Bronze and the following glint that told her family, she wouldn't be coming home that night.

And, oh god, Spike. Her strength, her rock, her guiding light in such a fucked up world. The only one of them, who had known Buffy and Dawn well enough to discuss them with her. Spike, who put on such a great show, but was so fragile inside. Who refused to drink hot chocolate, if they were out of the little marshmallows. The Vampire who would protect his family until the very end, come hell or high water. The one thing she could be sure of, in her entire life and he might not be there for her anymore.

Hell, with her having gone back in time, she might risk changing so much, that he'd never be chipped in the first place.

What had she done?

Was it really worth it? Was the lives of her friends, worth the comfort of her family? Sure, it felt nice to be in a time where she hadn't murdered them, but wasn't death inevitable in their world? Had she truly done the right thing? She couldn't say. Mostly because she feared the truth, so much that it shook her to the core.

You can't place one life against another, but it was only human to forget that at times. She saw Xander's smiling face in her mind, but next to it was the image of a jittery Anya, the day she drank five cups of coffee in less than an hour. Then, there was the ever-patient Giles, cleaning his glasses. But next to him, was the ruggedly handsome Wesley, who was rolling around on the floor, after Willow discovered his dark secret. He was extremely ticklish.

She saw Buffy's trusting face, as she told her how much she loved her, before the fight with Adam. And then she saw the other side of the coin, as Faith sat beside her on the porch steps, smoking a cigarette, as she told her how proud she was of the way she was dealing with her loss and guilt. And then, another epiphany hit, when the face of Dawn, was joined by the one of her favorite Vampire.

In her mind, only one thought rang out, clear as day. _What would Spike do?_

And the answer was obvious.

Spike would sacrifice himself, if it meant saving his Nibblet. And in retrospect, Buffy as well. But Dawn... she had been his first friend since... ever. Even counting his human days. She hadn't been his last, of course, but that didn't make her any less special. And he'd do anything for her. So because of him, Willow would as well.

Even if it cost her her sanity.

And her family.

Because that's what Spike would do.

* * *

Five minutes ago, Willow had been left alone, for the first time since waking up in the past. A half hour ago the room had been heavily occupied, by all of her old friends. Cordelia had been complaining about her manicure, which made the redhead smile and realize that she really _had_ missed her, in some strange way. Xander had continuously asked her if she was okay, which had begun to irritate her, but only slightly.

And Oz... she'd have to do something about that soon. Anyway, her current boyfriend had sat diligently by her side, holding her hand and leaving feathery kisses on her forehead every now and then. Finally, Giles had sat at the edge of her bed, in a wheelchair, looking well and truly tired.

Xander had gone to mansion and brought him back, just as Willow remembered.

And it hadn't surprised her, when the room had cleared a few minutes ago. The fact that the world hadn't been sucked into hell, had made everyone a bit giddy. Per her request, Oz had gone off to check the mansion, though Willow knew he would find it abandoned. Cordelia had begged off to get a good nights sleep, as she pushed Giles back to his own room. And now, Xander had slipped out to make a phone call.

Leaving Willow all alone.

But not for long.

"'Ey, Red," the baritone voice came from the doorway, laced with smoke and smolder.

"Eep," she screeched, unceremoniously, as she tried to jump forward to grab a hold of him.

"Easy now, sweetheart, or you'll hurt yourself," he smirked, swaggering his way to her bedside.

As soon as he was within touching distance, her nimble fingers grabbed the leather of his sleeve and pulled him to her. He would've landed on top of her, if it wasn't for his quick reflexes. As it was, he staggered for a few seconds, before regaining his foothold, as that familiar chuckle rang through the painfully white room.

"Nice to see you, too, pet," he said, the rumble of his voice flowing through her, as she lay her head on his cool chest.

Then, she punched his side. "Stupid-head. I thought I was all alone. I was nearing catatonia, for your information," she ground out, though it was impossible for her to even sound remotely upset at his appearance.

"Can't have that, now can we," she could hear both the smile and the worry in his voice. "Sorry it took me so long, Red. Had some business to take care of firs', though."

"Oh, right. How did the fight go?" She asked, as she suddenly remembered the truce he'd made with Buffy.

"A lot like last time, 'cept for the part where I left with Dru," his voice was empty now and she couldn't understand why.

She turned away from his chest then, and leaned back so she could look him in the eyes. Those exceptionally expressive blue eyes, that could never hide from her, no matter how hard they tried. But he was trying to avert them from her knowing gaze and she wouldn't have it. With a rough hand, much stronger than it should be considering her current state, she grabbed his chin and forced his eyes to lock on hers.

"Tell me," she demanded, though in a soft tone.

He sniffled slightly. "She was going after Buffy, y'know. I had no other bloody choice," he said, as he replayed the scene in his mind.

Willow didn't have to ask anymore questions. He had put a stake in Drusilla's heart. His Sire. His lover for more than a hundred years. His savior, in many ways. Even if she had also been his killer and the one who broke his heart, back in Brazil. And it was her fault. By going back in time, Willow had doomed him to do the one thing he never thought himself capable of.

"Knock it off, Red," he ground out.

Oh, right, she almost forgot how well he read her. Especially when it came to her self-loathing. She lowered her gaze and her cheeks reddened, but the guilt was still there. She couldn't help but think that it didn't matter what she changed. She'd apparently always be the one responsible for a death, be it that of a friend, or a woman who meant something to her brother.

Could she touch nothing and leave it unscathed?

Before Spike could say another word, she raised her eyes back to his. "I get it, Spike, really. Doesn't mean I'm not gonna feel guilty. But, I know it's better this way. I know that even _you_ would rather have her gone and Buffy alive, than the other way around. We've already lived that part, twice, and neither of us plan on returning to that. So, I get it. Just give me time, okay?" She pleaded with him, in a strong voice.

Spike sighed. "Yeh, alright," he acquiesced.

"Good," she smiled, taking the time to really look at him.

Though it _should_ be impossible, he looked younger. Maybe fighting on the side of good took more out of one person, than being evil did? Other than his duster and Docs, even his clothing was different. The tightly fitting black jeans had been replaced with loose, gray instead. The equally tight-fitting black shirt, was also gone and in its stead a black shirt two sizes too big, sat. And of course, there was the red shirt he had worn under the duster, for years. In fact, it hadn't been too long, since she had last seen it on him, if she thought hard enough.

Her gaze raised a bit, until she was once more looking into his deep, blue eyes. There was a darkness there, that she recognized, but it also appeared much different than in the past. It wasn't hope. It was something else, something negative, though she couldn't put her finger on it. Unfortunately, Willow couldn't read Spike as well as he read others. Not even after years of true friendship.

"Tell me," she said, leaning back in the bed but keeping one of his hands in hers, "what happened after Dru... left," she finished, not wanting to make things worse for him.

He sighed and pulled up the chair that Xander has sat in, not too long ago. "I wasn't sure, at first, what you were planning on doin'. But when the fight kept going and I saw the portal open, I knew he wouldn't be getting the soul back. Buffy..." his voice cracked, still feeling emotional from seeing his Slayer again, after thinking it would never happen. "She put the sword through Peaches and then broke down. Don' think she even realized I was still there. She ran out a few minutes later and the sun risin' kept me from takin' off after her,"

Willow willed her tears away, trying to keep convincing herself that she did the right thing. One thing she was sure of, though; Buffy could never know the choice her friend made. As far as the blonde would be aware, the redhead had not been capable of doing the spell, after being injured. It wasn't for the sake of their friendship, Willow knew from experience that she could survive without it; it was more for the sake of Buffy's heart. It could only stand being broken so many times, before the consequences worsened.

"You should probably get out of here," Willow finally spoke, explaining herself when he offered her a confused stare. "It's just a matter of time before Xander comes back and I really have no idea how to explain your presence. Besides, I wanna wait to discuss what this means, until the others get here," she knew _that_ could take a while.

"Right," Spike agreed, rising from his seat and planting a kiss on the redhead's forehead. "I'll be off. 'F you need me, I'll be around," he said, thinking about where to go, as he left the room.

Willow sighed, once she was alone again. Her head was spinning and even though it made her guilt rise a bit, she felt thankful that Buffy would be gone for the summer. There was so much to deal with, between her and her family, that it would be better without any unforeseen complications. They also needed to come up with a reasonable excuse for Spike switching sides, and the sudden presence of a Watcher, the newest Slayer and a Vengeance Demon not out for blood.

She felt a harsh thumping in her head and winced at the pain. All these difficult thoughts would have to wait until a time where they weren't going to make her current situation even worse. Her head simply couldn't handle any more onslaught, than what it was already dealing with.

She'd been through the ringer, lately.

Both with the time travel and the bookcase attack.

Shifting around until she found the comfort she was so desperately seeking, she let her eyes flutter shut and let the heavy exhaustion take her over. She would need it, for whatever was coming up later. There was still so much left to do and she had no idea what half of that was.

The others would arrive within the next few days and then she would deal.

For now, she needed rest. And for the first time in years, it was done with peace.

It felt wonderful.

* * *

He couldn't help but think back on the events of the night, as he walked down the quiet streets of Sunnydale. The first thing he saw, as he came to, was the bedroom of the mansion that had been his, since Rupert had burned down the factory. He was lying on the bed, alone as always, since the return of the Great Forehead. But this time, it didn't bother him as much, for obvious reasons.

He could heard the hustle and bustle of the minions, as they cleaned up around the large estate, not wanting to risk the wrath of their master. Spike had snorted at the thought and rose from the bed, noticing the hated chair in the corner. And then he remembered.

Everything.

His spinning mind had him feeling a bit nauseous, at first, before calming down. From the moment he awoke, until the sun set outside, he sat on the edge of the bed, thinking. But most importantly, remembering. Everything he could possible fit into the few hours he had left, he went over with a fine toothed comb.

And then he had heard the unmistakable clang of his Grandsire's voice.

He had grumbled under his breath, as he took his seat on the dreaded wheelchair and rolled himself out into the main room. Where Angelus was preening over his minions, as he explained his grand plan. To go out and meet with the Slayer, while Dru and a few of the boys went to the library, to collect the last piece of the Acathla puzzle. The Watcher. He paced with disgusting pride, in front of the practically-on-their-knees fledges. It made him sick to his stomach to watch.

But he endured it, quite amazingly, as he gazed at his Sire out of the corner of his eye. He watched as she, dazed and out of tune with the rest of the world, danced around the room, shaking her hips back and forth. It was similar to what she looked like, when she had one of her pixies whispering in her ear and for a moment, Spike had felt fear grip him.

What was she seeing?

But she never even sent as much as a glance in his way, so it had obviously not been about him or the thing that was so different about him, now. He allowed himself a near-silent sigh of relief, as he watched the small group depart from the mansion. In his head, though, his mind was going a mile a minute.

Should he follow them? Should he save the Slayer, that Dru was going to kill? Warn Buffy? And then he made it no further.

He had forgotten.

Forgotten about his golden Goddess. How could he? His mind reeled. She was alive, now. Young and naive, sure, but alive nonetheless. Filled with life and ideas of the future. This Buffy wasn't just around to breathe life into his undead heart, she was also missing the shattering events that had made _his_ Buffy so harsh, so cold and emotionless.

He couldn't find the breath he didn't need, as he thought of this. Of once more laying eyes upon the one woman he had never thought to see, ever again. He may have a soul, but he was never going to Heaven, so he had come to terms with never seeing her again. Accepted that she was out of his reach, for all time.

Until now.

With one last glance at the remaining minions, he had rolled himself back in his room and walked out of the small, hidden doorway, in the back. No one would be the wiser, not that it mattered. He wasn't planning on returning, at least not if he succeeded in his plan. And if he didn't, he would only come back to do, what he hadn't done the last time, despite his promise. Help the Slayer battle her enemies. His family.

Although _that_ particular word held an entirely different meaning now, that he had another, more important, family to speak of.

Which made him wonder where they were, right now, though Red he could guess.

When it came right down to it, his thoughts had betrayed him and he had made it to the library too late. He had watched from the shadows of the trees, as a pleased Dru glided out through the front doors of the school, followed by the minions. He had sighed in defeat, but knew that some things happened for a reason. And, he had to admit, a small part of him had wanted to stall.

After all, with the Island girl gone, Faith had her power.

Just as it should be, he thought.

After that, he had walked over the the meeting spot he remembered and waited for the nimble Slayer to show up. It had taken less than a half hour, before she finally did, followed by a police car. Spike snorted to himself, when he recognized the officer stepping out, as one of Penshaw's who was intrigued by the other world. Only here at this moment in time, he was still fully under the effects of Sunnydale Syndrome.

After knocking him out, with a mental apology to the man, Spike had gone on to convince Buffy of his wanting to help and not turn on her in the last second. It was surprisingly more difficult this time, because he left out a lot of the old speech. It was done so she might easier trust him, in the future. However, that also meant that she had a hard time figuring out exactly _why_ he was so intent on saving the world.

He had then decided to repeat the previous speech anyways, just leaving out the Happy Meals on legs part. He also hadn't offered to kill the officer, when the man was showing signs of waking. He lost some of the cockiness, as they walked to her home and offered silent support to Joyce, when she saw her daughter stake a Vampire, for the very first time.

He had refused to let himself feel the joy at seeing his old friend again.

And secretly, he swore to save her, no matter what.

Instead of the awkward silence, while Buffy had been checking up on her friends, Spike had gotten Joyce to open up, as they spoke slightly of the gallery and their first meeting was brought up. It had always surprised the bleach blonde, whether evil or good, that she had taken his agreement of being the 'gang-member on PCP' trying to kill his daughter, so extraordinarily well. But then, she'd always had a strength that far outweighed many others in the world. Including most supernatural creatures, in fact.

Something she had passed on to her children.

That's when the choking had returned.

Dawn wasn't here.

And perhaps, with the changes they made, she never would be.

Buffy stared at him with confusion and distrust, as they made their way to Crawford St., because she couldn't put a name to the look on his face. Spike was still reeling from the blow of his epiphany and following it, was a promise so deep, that it outdid any promise he had ever made before. Including the one right before their battle against Glory.

Come hell or high water, Spike would make sure Dawn came into existence.

Even if he had to fly to the Czech Republic and make it happen himself.

Then, thought had become impossible, as they implemented their plan. Thanks to Spike's quick mind, he found another way to distract Angelus from torturing Rupert _too_ much, thus ensuring that the Watcher wasn't haunted by the face of the woman he loved. Dru had not been a part of that and yet, unfortunately, Peaches had still gleaned the true ritual from the old man.

Apparently that was a part of fate's scheme, as well.

From then on, things had happened just as he had narrated them to Willow, as he visited her hospital bed. He had dusted his Sire to save Buffy and then watched his Slayer kill his Grandsire, before the girl fell apart at the seams. She hadn't even glanced his way, as she quickly got to her feet and ran for the entrance. Feeling the sting of sunshine on his senses, he didn't even bother following or calling out for her.

In this time, there was no trust, not even the tentative kind from a few years away.

He had sighed in defeat, found the closest manhole cover and walked the sewery distance to the hospital. Knowing from Buffy's earlier phone conversation, that this was where he would find his Red. And now, he was walking aimlessly down the darkened streets of his home, no idea of the direction his feet was heading him in.

He was just a bit lost at the moment, understandably so.

He stuck his hand in his duster pocket, aching for the taste of familiarity, as he searched for his smokes. Placing a fag in his mouth, he stuffed his hands in his jeans, but the trusted lighter wasn't there. He rolled his eyes in annoyance and dug deeper through every cavity he could find. Until he came to something strange, in the inner pocket of his leather coat.

The gasp that tore through his throat, as he pulled the item out, caused his cigarette to fall out of his mouth and onto the ground below. He promptly forgot about it, as he stared down at the picture in his hand.

How was it possible?

How had it survived the trip to the past, when he wasn't wearing the same clothes as he had in the future? It just wasn't real, that had to be it. He couldn't think of any other explanation, other than losing his mind.

Of course, that might've been because he didn't know about the spell Anya had placed on it.

The one that went beyond the laws of physics, apparently.

He had no idea how long he stood there, eyes caressing the picture as he gazed at his two girls. He knew, without a doubt, that this would be a life saver for the future. Even if he could, one day, get back the somewhat easy friendship he once had with Buffy, this would go a long way to keeping him sane, until that day. And his Nibblet. She wasn't here right now, not for another two years, as far as he could figure it.

He wasn't sure of the exact moment she joined the ranks, but knew it was somewhere around the time Glory rolled into town.

Just like in the future, he would treasure this picture, especially in case too much was changed and he never got the chance to get close to his girls. Sure, no matter what, he would have his family and in the end, that would be enough. But that didn't mean it wouldn't be even _better_, if he got the whole bloody cake.

But he wouldn't count on it.

Or it might just destroy him.

He sighed and reluctantly put the picture back in his inner pocket, patting it a few times, before he started walking again. After a quick trip past the twenty-four-hour drug store, for a dispensable lighter, he let his feet lead him through town, to a very familiar place.

The Alibi Room.

He pushed open the door and let his eyes adjust to the smog-filled room. Demons of all sizes and colors were taking up the interior and Willy stood behind the counter, as always, a look of dread on his face, when he caught eye of Spike. The Vampire smirked in reply, wondering what the puny human man would think, if he knew that in the future, where Spike was a good guy, he feared him even more.

Now that's irony for you.

Suddenly he felt the intense need to bury himself in a bottle of Jack, as he thought of the night he'd had. Hell, the last two years, if he was being honest. And, the thirst only became worse, when he thought of what was to come. The hardships he and his family would have to face, now that they had traveled back into the past. Too far back, he couldn't help but think.

From his own point of view, it would have been better after he got the chip, even if he was glad to be rid of it. At least then, he had the chance to be around the Scoobies, without having to fend off stakes every five minutes. Now, he wasn't sure how to gain their trust, though he supposed having Red on his side, would go a long way.

He hoped.

Pushing his way through grunting creatures, he made his way to the bar, where Willy was trying to look as invisible as possible. He jumped on to a stool and smiled in the man's direction, reveling in the erratic beat of his heart. The soul might keep him from killing the sniveling human, but that didn't mean he always had to be a good boy.

"I'd like the usual, Willy, and be quick about it," he spoke, pulling his fags out and lighting up.

He noticed, out of the corner of his eyes, that the Demon next to him was trying to make an escape, one that wouldn't be noticed. However, when he turned his head and saw who it was, he decided to make yet another change tonight. Might as well start sometime, right?

"Ey, it's Clem, yeah?" He said, as he looked at his old friend.

"Uh," he stammered, sitting half-way on the stool, obviously not sure how to deal with this new situation.

"'S alright, mate. Whadya say we have us a match in the back room? Jus' gotta finish my Jack, firs'," he said, pushing as much kindness into his voice as he could, without making himself nauseous.

Clem stared at him for one, whole minute, before coming to a final decision. He offered Spike a timid smile and nodded his reply, before they made their way to the back of the bar. Clem tapped the shoulders of a few other gents, as they reached the door, since it was impossible to get in a good poker game with just two people.

Besides, it also made Spike's cheating more obvious.

When the four Demons sat down at the round table and Clem began to handle to deck, Spike took a look at the other two. He knew one of them, but like the floppy-skinned Demon, it was a few years now, until any kind of introduction would be made. One thing Spike could never forget, was that his name was Thom, something that had made him laugh the first time he heard it.

What an utterly ridiculous name for an evil monster, honestly.

The other one, was completely unfamiliar, though Spike _did_ know that his kind was Halfow, a benign species that rarely stepped foot on a Hellmouth or any place with a Slayer. Which could be blamed at the feet of the Council, as they were responsible for teaching that 'all Demons are evil' garbage to their charges.

His perusal ended, when the cards were put in front of him and just like that, the game began.

The question wasn't whether he could win. It wasn't whether he could cheat well enough and walk away the superior. No, the question was if he could cheat _the best_.

"Le's play," he said, smirking at his companions and taking his first peek at his hand.

Here we go.

* * *

Two hours later, Spike walked back into the main room of the Alibi Room, six-hundred dollars richer. Not every game was kitten-poker, after all. There was only half of the patrons left, by now, as dawn wasn't too far off. It wasn't just Vampires who slept during the day, though they were the only ones that _had_ to. He knew he didn't have to bother, as he was smart enough to know the intricate sewer system like the back of his hand.

Surprisingly enough, the game had been bordering on friendly and he waved goodbye to the other players, as they left the bar. Then again, he hadn't wanted to alienate Clem, before he had a chance to prove that he was more than his reputation, so he had purposely lost a few hands, just to make sure.

Even if it had pained him to do so.

Stashing his dosh in the inner pocket of his duster, the one opposite from where the picture was, he walked along the bar, where Willy was currently cleaning a glass and hadn't spotted him yet. Spike surreptitiously rubbed his hands together, as a smirk formed on his lips. He loved scaring the daylights out of the tiny man, more than most things in this joint.

Before he had a chance to make as much as a sound, however, a very familiar voice rang out in the room. One he hadn't noticed two hours ago, due to the full crowd in the bar. His smirk slowly turned into a genuine smile, as his eyes fell over to the table on the far side of the establishment, where his sister was sitting with three unfamiliar Demons, playing what appeared to be a game of Go Fish.

Rolling his eyes at the absurdity, he walked over.

"Well, well, if it isn't Demon Girl," he chuckled, standing over her, as he waited for the outburst he knew was coming.

"Spike!" Anya shrieked, jumping from her seat and enveloping him in a tight hug. "I'm winning!" She said and Spike couldn't have contained himself, for anything in the world.

He broke down in heavy laughter, realizing how _Anya_ it was to say that as the first thing, despite everything that had happened in the last few days. They may have all been through the wringer, over the past few years, but even during those important changes, they still stayed the same in other ways.

Especially Anyanka.

"Good for you," he snickered, glancing at her companions. Anya got the move.

"Oh, Spike, I'd like you to meet my friends," she said, as she grabbed him by the elbow and led him into the seat next to hers. "This is Candor, Mira and Liseri," she pointing them out as she went along and the Vampire nodded to them in reply.

"Spike?" The one called Liseri said, a curious frown on her face. "Aren't you that Vampire that's been causing such havoc in town lately? The one of the Aurelius line?"

Mira looked at her friend, wondering if she was about to get them into trouble. Sure, they had spent the night getting to know the nice Demoness, but she didn't want to push her luck. Mira hadn't been in the dimension long enough to have any idea as to just who belonged to the Order of Aurelius or how important that specific name had, all throughout the Demonic community.

"I s'pose you could say that," he sent Liseri a smirk, sharing a glance with his sister. "Not gonna hurt anybody tonight, 'f tha's what you're worried bout." He said, leaning back in the booth so as to seem as relaxed as possible.

It went a long way to calm most people down, he had learned.

"Well, then," Candor said, a smile on his face, as he put one arm over each girl, "now that that's settled, why don't you join us, young fella?"

Anya snorted under her breath and Spike used every ounce of self-control he had, to keep a straight face. Not only was Spike much older than the Demon, who he knew was of a breed that wasn't Immortal like Vampires, but he also sounded like someones grandfather, instead of the creature of night that he appeared to be.

Spike was strangely reminded of Santa Clause and _that_ thought forced him to bite down on his tongue.

Anya wasn't faring much better.

"I think we'll sit this one out, Candor. Thanks, though," the blonde said, pulling on Spike's sleeve.

The two said their goodbyes, for now, and moved into a booth a bit closer to the door. The bar was slowly emptying out now and so it was no problem getting a seat. Spike noted, with a grin, that Willy was still keeping a close eye on him, waiting for the moment that he chose to do something that fitted with his reputation.

When he saw Spike looking back at him, his eyes widened and he scurried out of his sight, quick as a mouse. The Vampire snickered under his breath and turned to his sister, who was rolling her eyes at his childish antics.

"So," she said, when he had calmed down, "what's happening right now? Willy gave me a few details, but he obviously doesn't know as much as he thinks he does."

Spike smiled at that. "Red's in the hospital. She'll be fine, though," he hurried to say, when Anya started to look worried. "Just a bit ruffled, is all. Peaches is gone. For good, too," his smile was even brighter now.

"What?" Anya was shocked, she certainly hadn't been expecting _this_, of all news.

"Yeh. Don' know 'f you know this, but this was when he was all soulless and rampaging through town."

"No, I know that, like I said, Willy filled me in. What do you mean, he's gone? For good?" She shook her head in confusion and then turned in her seat, so she was fully facing her brother. "Okay, start from the beginning. What happened originally and what changed?"

Spike proceeded to do just that.

For the next half hour, hands flying everywhere and a gleeful look on his face, he went into detail. He told her what had happened last time and that it hadn't really been much different, except for Dru, of course. Which was the only point in the story where he choked up a bit. Then, he explained that the only _real_ change, was that Red hadn't put the soul back. Which would keep the Powers from bringing him back in a few months.

But Anya had caught on to something that Spike and Willow hadn't.

"But, what if it wasn't the Powers? I mean, are you sure of that? I seem to recall something happening with the First Evil, not longer after he returned. Couldn't _that_ have been why he was back?"

Spike seemed to give her questions some serious thought, before shaking his head in denial. "Nah, don' think so. The First tried to get him to kill 'imself, 'f I know my history. Doubt it'd do that, go through all that trouble of bringing him back, jus' to kill 'im again."

Anya still looked doubtful. "I guess. We'll just have to wait and see, then. Whatever happens, though, we'll handle it." And she sounded so sure of herself, that Spike had no choice but to believe her.

They could handle anything that was thrown at them.

After all, they had the first time around.

* * *

It had only been light for one hour, but still it seemed so bright that she felt her eyes were blinded. In her lap her hands shook, as she clutched the brown handle of her duffel bag. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Everything was all turned around.

It wasn't fair.

Why her? Why did she get all the bad luck? She got the Chosen duty, that forced her to realize things she didn't want to. The one that forced her to accept that she'd probably never live to see her twentieth year. She got the centuries old Vampire beau, who then decided to turn on her and kill her father figure's beloved. She never got the better end of the deal.

Then again, Kendra probably disagreed.

Buffy Summers sat in the uncomfortable seat of the large Greyhound bus, on her way out of the place that had caused equals amount of joy and pain. Love and hate. Life and death. So much death.

Only minutes earlier had they passed the Sunnydale welcome sign, an omen she thought. And she had made a promise to herself. To never return.

No matter what.

She sighed, as she thought of her mother. Logically, Buffy knew that the older woman hadn't meant her words. She had been in shock, and more than just a little bit drunk, and had lashed out. She understood that, truly she did. And she knew, should she ever break her promise and return, her mother would welcome her back with open arms.

That wasn't why she couldn't return.

She had failed to save them. It was her job, her _birthright_, to make life better, to kill the monsters before they could destroy others. But she had failed. Jesse. Ford. Jenny. Theresa. And so many others, whose names she didn't know. How could she justify staying, when she couldn't even do her job.

This would be her punishment, then. To live alone and face the consequences of her mistakes. Since she couldn't save the ones she loved, she would simply have to go without love, for the rest of her very young life.

And for the first time, since Merrick spoke with her, she was glad her life span was short.

She didn't know how long she could stand the loneliness, before it killed her.

Metaphorically speaking.

The green and luscious landscape passed her by, as she tried to tune out the voices around her. There was a couple a few seats over from her, whose saccharin sweet whispers were making her pain worsen. Something that hadn't seemed possible, since the moment she had stuck that sword into her love's belly.

Though granted, she couldn't help but be grateful that Angelus had been the one she killed.

Had it been Angel, she would have been broken beyond repair, she was sure of it.

She closed her eyes tight, forcing herself to stop thinking of what had happened. She was only torturing herself. However, the more she tried _not_ to think of it, the more the image solidified in her mind. Including one, crystalline clear picture, that still astounded her, almost out of her seat.

Spike.

Buffy had found herself in the court yard, on her knees, sword somewhere else and Angelus standing above her, gloating. Evil creatures really shouldn't do that, until they'd given the killing blow. It just gave the enemy time to regroup. Anyway, she was on the ground, feeling utterly despondent and out of luck, for the first time since she overheard Giles and Angel talking about the prophecy that foresaw her death.

In her mind, she made a choice. She refused to look into those familiar brown eyes, as he served her the slash that would take her out of this world. But she refused to close them, to let him see, clearly, how ready for the end she was. She would not give him that satisfaction. So, her eyes moved just slightly to the right. Giving her a perfect view of the main room of the mansion, where Acathla stood dormant.

But that wasn't what captured her eye. The first thing she saw, was the statue of a Vampire. Spike looked to be in utter shock, as he stood in the middle of the floor, one hand raised, the other pressed against the side of his neck, where she could see blood flowing. His blue eyes were wide and even from that distance, she could clearly read the pure agony in his gaze. Which she followed to the floor.

Where the unmistakable sight of a dust pile lay.

Drusilla.

He had killed his Sire, to save the world.

Had he killed his Sire, to save the world?

Unbelievable.

And exactly what the Slayer needed.

The fact that Spike, _Spike_, had gone to such lengths to make sure the world still stood, touched something deep within her. Something she would vehemently deny later, when she wasn't so exhausted. It was something she hadn't been able to recognize before, back when her reluctance to do the same had gotten her teacher killed. Had gotten _Jenny_ killed, she reminded herself.

She looked him straight in the eyes and saw a humanity she never realized, had always been there. Even when he was above her, about to sink his fangs into her neck and get his third Slayer. And with that, singular thought, in her mind, she knew just what she had to do. She had to be just as strong.

When Angelus thrust the sword toward her neck, she reached out with her deeply imbedded instincts, and grabbed a hold of the tip of the blade. And just like that, the fight had turned back into her favor.

And even with that knowledge, she knew she could never blame Spike for having to murder the one who wore her love's face.

Because in the end, it was _her _choice.

But he had, unknowingly, given her the strength needed to follow through. And, as the bus rode further away from her home, she couldn't help the one thought that slipped into her consciousness.

Would she ever see him again?

Followed by the second one.

Would she want to?

* * *

**Authors Note:** Well, whadya think? :D


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